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DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL 


BY 
THB   AUTHOR  OP  "  LUCILE,"   "  THK  LADY   PAULINA,"  ETC.,   BTC. 


"  An  honest  tale  speeds  best,  being  plamly  told." 

KING  RICHARD  III. 


st,  being  plaml 


BOSTON 

ARENA  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

COPLEY  SQUARE 

1894 


Copyright,  1894, 

by 
ARENA  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved. 


Arena  Press 


TO 

"UNCLE  REMUS" 

IN   PLEASING   REMEMBRANCE   OF   THE   OLD 
PLANTATION  DAYS. 

Bergovania,  January,  1894. 


2138152 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL, 


CHAPTER  I. 

DAVID. 

"VERY  well,  Jedge ;  yer'ill  lemme  know 
ter-morrer  ? " 

"Yes.     To-morrow." 

"  That's  right.  Afore  the  bank  shets,  ye 
know.  Mout  I  call  round  thar,  or  had  I  best 
ter  come  here  ? " 

"As  you  please." 

"  All  right  ;  then  ter  be  shore  ov  catching 
ye,  I'll  come  myself.  *  Hit's  allers  certinest 
ter  be  on  hand  myself,  as  ye  mout  be  bizzy. 
So  good-mornin',  Jedge,"  and  with  a  com- 
placent smile  of  exasperating  good-nature, 
the  unwelcome  visitor  bowed  himself  out. 

He  was  an  elderly  man,  his  tall  form 
slightly  bent  by  the  weight  and  toil  of  busy 
years.  His  eye  was  keen  as  a  hawk's,  but 
with  a  kindly  glance  that  would  have 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


charmed  a  baby.  The  gray  in  the  scattering 
chin- whiskers  had  climbed  up  his  cheeks  and 
over  his  ears  into  the  thin  locks  of  his  hair, 
and  frosted  a  poll  once  black  as  a  crow's. 
His  dress,  though  scrupulously  elegant,  was 
made  more  for  substantial  comfort,  than  for 
show,  although  a  rather  vulgar  display  of 
diamond  seal,  studs  and  pin,  showed  a  taste, 
if  not  perverted,  at  least  not  in  harmony 
with  the  strong  lines  of  character  so  legibly 
marked  on  his  face. 

His  interlocutor  was  his  contemporary  in 
years,  but  his  antithesis  in  all  things  else  ; 
a  well-born,  well-bred,  proud  and  dignified 
gentleman  ;  "one  of  the  good  old  kind." 
Toil,  nor  the  weight  of  busy  years,  had  left 
no  hard  lines  on  his  forehead,  no  silver 
threads  in  his  hair.  A  life  of  wealth,  of 
luxurious  ease  and  elegant  leisure,  rounded 
into  a  career  of  social  and  political  prefer- 
ment, had  been  his.  Tt  was  only  of  late  that 
troubles  had  begun  to  come  ;  only  as  he  had 
turned  the  downward  slope  of  life,  hitherto 
so  sunny,  that  fortune  had  turned  also. 
Hand  in  hand  they,  prosperity  and  he,  had 
climbed  together  to  the  top,  and  now,  hand 
in  hand,  they  seemed  to  be  tottering  together 
down  to  the  bottom.  The  fast-widening 
streaks  of  gray  that  were  mottling  his  head 


DA  VID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


were  of  sudden  springing  ;  one  year  ago  not 
a  single  silver  thread  could  have  been  found. 

"  Oh,  God  !  my  God  !  what  shall  I  do  ! "  he 
groaned  as  the  jealous  door  closed  after  his 
unwelcome  visitor,  shutting  him  in,  alone 
with  his  humiliation  and  misery. 

For  a  few  moments  he  bowed  his  head  in 
despairing  perplexity,  and  then  with  an 
effort  he  roused  up  and  reached  for  his  office- 
bell.  "I  must  tell  David  ;  it  is  a  humiliat- 
ing thing  to  do,  but  it  is  all  that  is  left  for 
me  to  do.  Poor  boy  !  his  own  trouble  was 
enough,  already,  without  bothering  him  with 
this.  Ah,  false,  cruel  girl  !  I  could  curse  you 
for  this,"  and  with  a  vicious  jerk,  as  if  it 
was  the  imaginary  neck  of  a  desperately 
naughty  girl  he  was  pulling,  he  rang  the 
bell. 

"Yes,  sah,"  responded  Jake,  a  smart 
negro  fellow. 

"  There  is  a  speck  of  soot  on  your  collar, 
Jacob  ;  how  dare  you  come  in  my  presence 
in  such  a  plight  ?  Go  out  and  cleanse  your- 
self," severely  pointing  to  a  little  fleck  of 
soot  that  had  'Unluckily  fixed  itself  upon  the 
immaculate  whiteness  of  the  negro's  collar, 
a  whiteness  made  snowy  in  contrast  with  the 
ebon  neck  it  encircled. 

"Yes,  sah,  hit  jist  lit.     I  didn't   knowed 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


hit  war  dar,"  apologized  Jake,  backing  out 
with  a  succession  of  salams.  In  a  minute 
he  returned,  fleckless  and  spotless,  in  ebon 
and  ivories. 

"Now,  find  your  Master  David,  and  send 
him  to  me.  You  will  likely  find  him  in  the 
library. " 

The  obsequious  negro  hurried  away,  and 
soon  the  young  master  in  question  stood 
inquiringly  before  his  father. 

"Close  the  door,  David,  and  sit  down.  I 
am  very  sorry  to  interrupt  you,  but  I  must 
tell  you,"  said  the  Judge,  without  rising,  as 
he  motioned  his  son  to  a  seat. 

"  I  hope  it  is  nothing  serious  that  troubles 
you,  father  ? " 

"Yes,  it  is  very  serious  and  troubles  me 
greatly,  both  on  my  own  account  and  upon 
yours,  my  son,"  soberly  answered  his  father. 

"But  you  must  not  let  it  trouble  you  on 
my  account.  I  have  been  thinking  the  mat- 
ter over,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  it  is  best 
as  it  is.  A  girl  so  fickle,  not  to  say  false, 
cannot  make  a  true  wife.  A  woman  who 
jilts  her  lover  will — but  I  will  not  speak  it  of 
her.  Let  her  go  ;  only  the  blow  was  a  hard 
one,  harder,  perhaps,  because  so  unexpected. " 

"  It  would  have  been  hard  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, and  I  am  very  sorry,  for  I  did 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


love  Gertrude  as  a  daughter,  but,  my  son, 
this  is  not  all — 

"It  is  all  that  can  affect  me.  If  there  is 
anything  else  you  must  let  me  help  you  to 
meet  it." 

"Yes,  there  is  something  else;  and  you 
must  help  me  to  bear  it,  at  least  with  your 
strength,  and  your  courage.  It  will  require 
our  united  efforts  to  meet  it." 

"All  that  I  have,  father,  is  and  shall  be 
yours  ;  only  tell  me  what  it  is  I  am  to  do  ? " 

' '  You  know  the  embarrassment  of  my 
finances  ? " 

"  I  knew  that  you  were  somewhat 
strained,  but  did  not  think  it  serious." 

"Ah!  serious,  hopeless.  Ruin  irretriev- 
able and  disgrace  is  before  me." 

"  Oh,  no ;  surely  it  is  not  so  bad  as 
that  ? " 

"Yes;  there  is  no  escape,  no  help.  As 
Gertrude's  guardian  I  have  used  her  money, 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  ;  and  now  that 
she  has  married,  I  shall  be  called  upon  for  a 
settlement  and  I  have  no  means  with  which 
to  replace  it." 

"  But  surely  this  is  not  so  bad  ?  Twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars ;  we  can  raise  that 
amount.  Why  not  mortgage  the  plantation  ? 
or  else  sell  it  ? " 


6  DAVITt  AND  ABIGAIL. 

11  Alas  ;  it  is  already  mortgaged  for  more 
than  it  will  bring  ;  negroes  and  all." 

The  young  man  staggered,  but  strong  in 
youthful  courage  and  faith  in  his  father  he 
quickly  rallied. 

"  Then  sell  the  Arcade.  I  know  that  you 
intended  it  for  me  but  let  it  go.  It  should 
easily  fetch  thirty  thousand." 

"  The  Arcade  is  gone  too.  In  fact,  my  son, 
I  should  have  told  you  all  this  long  ago,  but 
I  did  not  have  the  courage  to  face  you.  I 
even  tried  to  hide  it  from  myself  ;  but  every- 
thing in  the  world  that  I  have  is  mortgaged 
for  its  full  value.  Even  the  homestead  will 
have  to  go. " 

"And  there  is  nothing  to  secure  Gert — 
Mrs.  Hardie,  I  mean  ? " 

' '  Nothing ;  absolutely  nothing.  My  bonds- 
men will  have  to  suffer." 

"  That  is  sad." 

"  It  is  miserable.  I  would  blow  my  brains 
out  if  it  would  restore  the  money." 

"No  ;  that  would  not  mend  matters.  It 
would  be  only  a  confession  of  guilt,  where  I 
am  sure  no  guilt  lies.  But  does  she  know 
this?" 

"She;  who?" 

"  Gertrude,  Mrs.  Hardie." 

"  No.     I  was  so  sure  of  your  marriage  that 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


I  felt  no  concern  about  the  matter.  It  was 
her  surprising  perfidy  and  folly  in  running 
away  with  this  fellow  that  has  precipitated 
my  ruin.  If  I  only  had  time  I  could  retrieve 
my  affairs.  I  am  sure  to  win  the  Willough- 
by  case  and  that  will  more  than  suffice  for 
all  that  I  owe." 

"But  can  we  not  gain  time?  We  can 
stave  off  a  settlement  until  after  the  fall 
term." 

"  No — that  is  impossible.  Old  Hardie  has 
just  been  here  and  I  am  to  answer  him  to- 
morrow." 

"What!  so  soon  ?  They  were  only  mar- 
ried yesterday.  And  has  she  sent  him 
already  ?  Ah  !  false,  fair  .woman  !  I  had 
thought  better  of  you  than  this,"  and  in  the 
bitterness  of  his  disappointment,  the  young 
man  bowed  his  face  in  his  hands  and  groaned. 

The  father  pitied  the  son's  distress  and 
answered  softly  : 

11  No  ;  he  did  not  come  from  her.  He  never 
even  mentioned  her  name.  It  was  on  his 
own  account  that  he  came." 

"And  what  has  he  got  to  do  with  it?" 
rousing  up  with  a  flush. 

"  It  is  to  him  I  owe  all  this  money.  He 
holds  the  mortgages  upon  all  our  property, 
and  he  threatens  to  foreclose  at  once." 


8  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

11  To  him  !  to  old  Israel  Hardie,  the  miser- 
able miser  ? " 

"Yes,  to  him;  I  am  absolutely  in  his 
power.  His  word  to-morrow  can  make  me  a 
pauper,  and  my  daughter  a  beggar." 

"  Then  God  pity  us,  for  I  had  rather  be  in 
the  hands  of  Shylock,  the  itching-palmed 
Jew  of  Venice,  than  to  be  in  the  power  of 
this  wretched  man.  Why,  the  very  associa- 
tion is  a  reproach  to  our  name.  No  gentle- 
man can  countenance  him ;  he  is  but  little 
better  than  a  gambler,  a  robber,  a  man  who 
made  his  fortune  by  trading  negroes." 

"  He  is  low  enough,  I  grant  you,  and  I  as 
keenly  feel  the  humiliation  of  the  disreputa- 
ble association,  but  I  can  not,  nor  could  I  at 
the  time,  help  myself.  He  bought  the  secu- 
rities himself  from  the  bank  and  I  could  not 
protest.  In  fact  he  virtually  owns  the  bank 
itself.  He  is  immensely  rich,  and  despite  his 
low  breeding  and  dubious  reputation  he  is 
correspondingly  powerful." 

"  Yes,  a  gilded  pill,  and  society  will  have  to 
swallow  him.  It  was  this,  I  suppose,  the 
glitter  of  his  wealth,  that  caused  Gertrude  to 
forget  her  breeding  and  to  run  away  with 
his  fop  of  a  son." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  ;  although,  to  do  the  chap 
justice,  he  is  a  good-looking  young  fellow  ; 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  9 

handsome  and  insinuating,  and  if  it  were  not 
for  his  low  birth  and  plebeian  associations,  I 
would  say  that  Gertrude  has  made  a  very 
good  match.  As  good  as  such  a  deceitful 
woman  as  she  deserves." 

"  Faugh  !  she  has  disgraced  herself  and 
her  family.  I  wonder  that  Ike  does  not  hunt 
him  down  and  shoot  him.  But  she  is  noth- 
ing to  me  ;  heigho  !  But  what  is  it  the  old 
codger  wants  ? " 

"His  money  first,  of  course." 

"  And  to  get  it  he  will  foreclose  the  mort- 
gages 2 " 

"Yes." 

"  How  much  do  you  owe  him  ? " 

"  One  hundred  and  ten  thousand,  five  hun- 
dred and  sixty  dollars,  or  to  be  exact,  as 
Hardie  who  had  made  the  calculation  him- 
self, sixty  dollars  and  thirty-seven  cents." 

"But  the  property  should  bring  more  than 
that." 

"  At  any  other  time  it  would,  but  under 
the  present  financial  depression  and  at  a 
forced  sale,  it  would  not  realize  the  half  of 
it." 

"  But  will  he  not  wait  ?  Is  there  no  way 
to  gain  a  respite  ?  Have  we  no  friends  that 
we  can  appeal  to  for  help  ?  " 

"  I  have  exhausted  the  venire  and  find 


10  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

none.  Every  one  is  anxiously  propping  up 
his  own  tottering  fortune.  The  whole  com- 
mercial fabric  is  shaky  and  I  doubt  very 
much  if  I  could  to-day  secure  an  indorse- 
ment for  one  thousand  dollars.  All  this 
Hardie  knows,  and  he  is  swift  to  take  advan- 
tage of  my  defenseless  position.  It  is  one  of 
the  saddest  features  about  these  financial 
upheavals,  that  the  oldest  and  proudest 
houses  are  the  ones  to  tumble,  while  the 
dirty  adobes  are  left  unscathed.  I  should 
not  mind  the  loss  of  my  property  so  much 
were  it  not  for  the  loss  that  will  follow  to 
others  ;  my  innocent  bondsmen,  and  espe- 
cially my  old  friend,  Burwell  Graves,  who 
would  have  trusted  me  with  his  all.  And 
Walter  ;  what  can  he  think  of  Gussie's  father 
when  he  is  told  that  he  is  a  defaulter,  and 
that  his  own  father  must  pay  the  forfeit  ? 
Ah !  poor  Augusta !  it  will  be  hard  for 
her." 

"  That  is  the  saddest  of  all,  the  misappro- 
priation of  your  ward's  estate." 

"  Yes  ;  it  was  cruel.  I  shall  never  forgive 
her  for  leaving  you  as  she  did.  Had  she 
married  you,  as  we  all  expected,  all  would 
have  been  well — 

"  Never  mind  me ;  I  am  glad  that  it  is 
over  between  us  ;  let  us  come  back  to  busi- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  11 

ness.  You  say  that  Old  Hardie  refuses 
further  time  ?  " 

"  He  gave  me  until  to-morrow  to  decide." 

"To decide  what  ?" 

"Oh,  I  have  not  told  you?  Well,  never 
mind  ;  the  thing  is  too  absurd  to  talk  about. 
Preposterous,  preposterous ! " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Oh,  the  old  fool  is  demented,  and  I 
should  not  offend  your  good-nature  by  re- 
peating his  proposition." 

"But  if  it  bears  on  this  matter  at  all,  I 
think,  sir,  that  I  ought  to  be  told." 

"Very  well.  It  would  be  annoying  were 
it  not  so  utterly  ridiculous,  and  you  cannot 
be  angry  ;  but  the  proposition  was  about  his 
daughter — 

"  His  daughter  ?  I  was  not  aware  that  he 
had  a  daughter." 

"Yes,  a  chit  of  a  thing,  just  eighteen, 
he  says,  whom  the  boarding  schools  have 
crammed  with  the  conceit  that  she  is  an 
accomplished  young  lady.  She  is  ill-favored 
as  she  is  low-born.  I  recollect  seeing  her 
once  during  my  canvass  for  the  senate, 
when  I  stopped  at  her  father's  plantation. 
That  was  before  they  took  it  into  their  heads 
to  come  to  town  and  beat  their  way  in 
society.  She  was  freckled-faced,  snub- 


12  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

nosed,  and  had  a  foot  like  a  bread-tray,  and 
waddled  in  her  walk  like  a  gosling  ;  just 
such  a  daughter  as  you  can  imagine  such  a 
father  to  have— 

"  But  what  has  his  daughter  to  do  with 
our  affairs  ? "  his  son  interrupted  with  a 
slight  disgust. 

"  Ah  !  that  is  it.  I  knew  you  would 
wonder,  but  the  truth  is,  the  old  fool  is 
immensely  vain  of  his  daughter  and  has  an 
insane  ambition  to  marry  her  into  social 
position  ;  he  is  jealous  of  his  own  ilk,  and 
guards  her  like  a  Cerberus  to  prevent 
her  from  marrying  one  of  the  common  herd  : 
'I  want  her  to  marry  one  uv  the  big- 
bugs  , '  he  said.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"I  think  so." 

"  Very  well :  the  wretched  old  scoundrel, 
taking  advantage  of  my  destraint  and 
emboldened,  doubtless,  by  the  surprising 
leap  his  son  has  made  over  the  social  fence, 
came  to  me  just  now  with  a  proposi- 
tion  " 

' '  To  marry  her  to  you  ? "  his  son  asked, 
with  a  smile. 

"  P-i-s-h  ;  no.  That  would  not  have  been 
so  monstrous,  but  he  wanted  you  to  marry 
her." 

"Surely,  you  are  jesting?" 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  13 

"  No  ;  indeed.  Just  as  coolly  as  he  had 
calculated  the  interest  on  my  notes,  he  had 
figured  out  the  possibilities  and  advantages 
of  the  marriage.  'You  see,'  he  said,  '  I'ze 
bin  a  watching  that  boy  ov  yourn  an'  thay's  a 
power  o'  gum  in  'im,  and  with  Abby,' — shade 
of  Lavena,  her  name  is  Abby  ! — '  an'  with 
Abby's  money  ter  push  'im  on,  an'  Abby's 
grit  ter  scotch  fer  'im  ;  thar's  no  knowin' 
how  high  he  mouten  clime.'  It  was  really 
too  comical  !  the  patronizing  manner  in 
which  he  slapped  me  on  the  shoulder  and 
challenged  me  to  dispute  the  magnificent 
proposition." 

"  You  should  have  called  Jake  to  kick  him 
out  of  the  room." 

"If  the  thing  hadn't  been  so  irresistibly 
ludicrous,  I  should  have  done  so,  but  the 
triumphant  gravity  of  the  old  fool's  look  dis- 
armed me  completely,  and  I  had  to  laugh. 
Not  to  encourage  him,  however,  in  his  Quix- 
otic hobby,  I  told  him  that  while  you  might 
appreciate  the  lady's  several  thousand  charms, 
to  say  nothing  of  her  grit,  I  was  quite  sure 
that  you  were  in  no  condition  to  marry  ; 
when  he  quickly  interrupted  me  :  '  Yes,  but 
I'll  see  to  his  condition  ;  I'll  fix  all  that,  I've 
got  a  cool  millyon  in  soak  fer  Abby,  an'  if 
that  don't  put  the  man  she  gits  on  top,  I'd 


14      .  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

jist  like  ter  see  the  next  one.  An'  'sides 
that ; '  he  added,  '  Abby's  no  slouch  herself, 
but  on  a  tite  pull  she's  ekill  ter  a  whole  team 
an'  a  yaller  dog  under  the  waggin  ;  jest  let's 
hitch  them  two  together,  an'  shore's  yer  born, 
if  the  traces  don't  break  the  thing's  bound 
ter  move.  Why,'  he  added,  in  a  confiden- 
tial whisper,  '  we'll  both  hev  a  little  gran- 
chile  borned  in  the  White  House,  jis'  as  cer- 
tain as  falling  off  a  log.' ' 

"Tush  !" — contemptuously — "the  man  is 
an  idiot." 

"Yes  ;  but  there  is  a  desperate  earnest- 
ness in  his  mouthings,  David.  It  means  ruin 
tome,  my  son." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  help  it  ?  Surely  you 
cannot  suggest  the  possibility  of  me  humor- 
ing the  old  rogue's  madness,  and  marrying 
this  baggage  ? " 

"Oh,  no.  Nothing  of  the  sort.  Not  with 
diamonds  to  gild  the  harness  would  I  consent 
to  see  my  son  yoked  with  such  cattle." 

"  And  you  told  him  so  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  told  him  that  while  that  was  a 
matter  with  which  I  could  have  nothing  to 
do,  yet  I  was  quite  sure  of  your  feelings  on 
the  subject  of  marriage,  and  that  nothing 
could  be  more  repugnant  to  your  feelings, 
at  this  time,  than  the  idea  of  such  a  thing. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  15 

He,  however,  insisted  that  I  should  speak  to 
you  about  it,  and  promised  to  suspend  action 
until  he  heard  from  you.  He  is  to  come  to- 
morrow for  his  answer.  You  had  better  be 
present  when  he  comes,  and  perhaps  we  can 
overcome  the  absurdity  of  his  fancy,  and 
prevail  upon  him  to  grant  me  a  respite. 
Somehow  you  have  his  good  opinion  and  you 
may  possibly  be  able  to  convince  him,  not 
only  of  the  equity  of  my  Willoughby  claims, 
but  of  the  absolute  certainty  of  a  favorable 
judgment." 

' '  Yes,  I  will  see  him,  and  I  only  wish  that 
I  could  as  readily  convince  him  of  the  cer- 
tainty of  a  favorable  issue  of  the  Willough- 
by claim,  as  I  can  of  the  utter  impossibility 
of  this  other  thing  he  wishes.  I  should  like, 
however,  for  him  to  come  early,  as  I  have  to 
meet  Lawson  at  Eed  Oak,  at  one  o'clock." 

"Ah,  yes.  I  had  forgotten;  poor  boy, 
it  is  too  bad  for  me  to  lay  the  burden  of  my 
distress  upon  you,  when  you  need  all  your 
strength  and  energy  for  the  canvass." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  me.  The  tension  will 
only  nerve  me  to  strike  the  harder.  But,  by 
the  way,  I  was  in  the  library,  when  Jake 
called  me,  looking  up  the  debates  on  the 
Kentucky  resolutions  ;  can  you  give  me  the 
data?" 


16  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Certainly,"  and  in  another  moment  the 
carking,  grinding  cares  of  the  domestic  man 
were  thrown  off  as  a  profitless  cumber,  and 
the  two  politicians  lost  themselves  in  the 
more  congenial  world  of  politics,  statecraft 
and  diplomacy. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ABIGAIL. 

IT  was  an  elegant  room  in  an  elegant 
house.  Whatever  might  be  said  as  to  the 
plebeian  origin,  or  of  the  plebeian  habits,  of 
the  parvenu  owner,  nothing  could  be  urged 
against  the  refined  elegance  and  tasteful 
appointments  of  his  present  surroundings. 
The  proudest  aristocrat  in  all  that  aristo- 
cratic city,  would  have  been  proud  of  the 
appropriate  splendor  of  that  room. 

It  mattered  not  how  vulgar  the  purse  that 
paid  for  it,  the  taste  that  selected  and  the 
hand  that  arranged  its  furniture  was  the 
taste  of  a  connoisseur,  and  the  hand  of  an 
artist  ;  everything  was  luxurious,  graceful, 
pretty  ;  the  only  thing  seemingly  out  of 
place  was  the  master  himself.  Awkward 
and  ungainly  he  moved  about,  unconscious 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  17 

of  the  incongruity,  but  somehow  vaguely 
feeling  a  sense  of  misfitness.  The  luxurious 
fauteuil  on  which  his  daughter  so  gracefully 
reclined,  would  have  been  a  hot  gridiron  to 
him. 

' '  Hit  may  do  f er  you  uns  ;  young  f okes 
as  wer  horned  ter  sich  contraptions,  but  as 
fer  me  I'd  ruther  hev  an  ole  hickory  stump, 
er  a  popler  log,  ter  set  on  than  ter  hev  a 
whole  lot  full  uv  sich  jimcracks.  The  saft- 
est  setting  that  I  ever  sot,  was  on  the  hoss- 
block  ov  a  nite,  when  I  got  in  from  plowing  ; 
long  time  ago.  Ah  !  I  members  the  time, 
jist  as  well  as  zif  hit  was  yisterdy  ;  I  was  a 
boy,  then,  an'  they  was  good  ole  days,  I  tell 
ye.  I  wus  jist  a  beginning  ter  fix  up  ter 
court  yer  mammy  then,  Abby ;  she  wus 
the  sweetest  gurrill  that  ever  lived ;  the 
purtiest  an'  the  sweetest.  You  minds  me  ov 
her  off  en,  Abby  ;  you  are  more,  an'  more  like 
her  every  day." 

"  Am  I  ?  Then  I  am  very  glad  ;  my  sweet 
mamma.  Do  you  know  I  can  remember 
her  ?  " 

"Mebby  so,  only  you  wuz  a  monstus 
leetle  thing  when  she  died  ;  you  wuz  jist 
four  years  old." 

"  Yes,  but  still  I  am  sure  that  I  do  re- 
member her.  I  dream  of  her  often  and 


18  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

every  time  she  appears  the  same.  Her  eyes 
were  brown,  and  so  soft  and  gentle.  Were 
they  not  pretty  eyes  ?  " 

"  Jist  as  purty  az  a  fawn's,  an',  az  ye  say, 
saft  an'  gentle.  Ah !  they  waz  monstus 
purty  eyes  !  an'  she  was  a  monstus  purty 
'oman,  an'  jist  as  good  az  she  was  purty. 
She  waz  a  powerful  good  'oman,  yer 
mammy  waz  ;  too  good  fer  me  ;  too  purty 
an'  good  an'  sweet  fer  me.  I  offen  wonder- 
ed how  on  yeath  I  ever  got  'er." 

"Oh,  no  ;  I  am  sure  that  she  loved  you 
»and  that  you  loved  her  very  dearly." 

"  Loved  her  ?  loved  yer  mammy,  child  ? 
Wy  yer  don't  know  what  yer  talkin'  'bout. 
I'd  a  gin  every  blessed  nigger  on  the  place, 
an'  would  a  died  myself  ter  a  saved  her. 
Ah  !  talk  'bout  trubble ;  but  no  one  knows 
what  trubble  is,  that  'hain't  lost  what  I've 
lost.  Ah  me  !  But  never  mine  ;  hit  won't 
be  long  afore  I'll  go  too.  I  somehow  jist 
natcherly  feels  hit  in  my  bones  ;  and  then 
mebby  we'll  get  tergether  agin." 

"Would  you  wish  to  leave  me,  father?" 

"Well,  no;  that  is,  in  course,  I  wouldn't 
like  ter  take  yer  along  with  me,  case  hit 
wouldn't  be  natcheral ;  but  then,  yer  know 
that  I  can't  allers  expect  ter  stay  here.  An' 
that,  mind's  me,  hunny,  ov  somethin'  I've  bin 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  19 

talkin,  'bout  ter  day.  Come,  shet  yer  book  up 
awhile,  an'  let's  hev  a  little  confab,  'bout  it." 

"  Ah  !  what  is  it  ? "  closing  the  book  in  her 
lap  and  looking  up  in  pretty  wonder  at  the 
sudden  gravity  of  her  father's  tone. 

1 '  Hit's  about  marryin  ;  but  fust,  lemme 
tell  you  ;  I  seed  Tom  ter-day." 

' '  Oh,  did  you  ? "  and  the  wondering  eyes 
drooped.  "  How  did  he  look  ? "  brightening 
up. 

' '  Thes  like  a  sheep-killin'  hound.  He 
knowed  he'd  acted  mean  an'  the  girl  done 
it  too." 

"Did  you  see  her  ?  What  kind  of  a  girl  is 
she  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  seed  her,  an'  she's  a  right  sniptious 
lookin'  'oman,  only  she's  as  proud  as  Lucifix, 
an'  turned  up  her  nose  at  me  az  zif  I  waz  a 
wet  dog.  I  lay  she'll  make  Tom  smell  the 
patchin'  ;  she's  a  regular  tippy-bob  an'  Tom 
looks  like  a  fool  aside  her.  My  notion  is 
that  Tom's  niggled  it.  An'  'sides  he  fooled 
her,  Tom  did— 

" Fooled  her?    Oh  surely,   not." 

"Yes  ;  that's  what  he  done,  fer  a  fac'. 
Her  uncle,  Colonel  Garden,  axed  me  all  about 
hit  ter-day.  Tom  made  'em  all  believe  as 
how  he  waz  my  own  shore-anuff  son,  an' 
would  fall  heir  to  all  my  property." 


20  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  No,  no ;  he  could  not  stoop  to  such  a 
deception  ? " 

"  Yes,  but  he  did  though.  Tom's  a  regu- 
lar scamp  an'  I'me  done  with  him.  Why, 
you  thes  orter  a  seed  the  look,  when  I  told 
the  Colonel  that  he  wan't  scasely  any  kin  at 
all  ter  me.  That  he  waz  my  daddy's  cousin's 
orfin  chile  that  I  had  picked  up  outen  the 
ash-pile  an'  gin  him  a  raisin',  an'  while  I 
mought  give  him  a  little  patch  down  on 
the  crick,  an'  a  nigger,  or  two,  to  start 
on,  I  didn't  spect  ter  divide  my  fortin 
with  nobody  but  you.  The  man  looked 
thes  like  he'd  ad  bin  shot ;  I  could  a 
knocked  him  down  with  a  puff  ov  wind. 
An',  honey,  do  yer  know  as  somehow  or 
other  I  is  glad  that  Tom  is  gone  ?  Out 
ov  your  way,  I  means." 

The  young  lady  flushed,  and  her  father, 
putting  his  own  construction  upon  the 
blush,  continued  : 

"Yes,  I  knows  as  you  didn't  mean  any- 
thing wrong  about  hit,  but  I  sorter  seed 
as  you  an'  him  was  a  kinder  pea-vining 
to'ards  one  another.  Thar,  don't  begin 
ter  flare  up,  but  jist  wait  a  minit  tell  I 
'splains.  I  waz  sorry  ter  see  hit,  fer 
though  I  know'd  that  Tom  warn't  no 
'count,  an'  I  had  higher  notions  fer  you, 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  21 

yit,  zif  it  had  a  corned  ter  a  focus  an' 
you  had  a  set  your  head  on  marryin'  'im, 
I'd  a  thes  shet  my  eyes  on  his  nocount- 
ness  an'  a  let  ye  rip  ;  hush — wait  another 
ininit,  but  now  az  hits  all  over  an'  the 
'bominable  fool  haz  gone  an'  drapt  ye 
fer  this  tother  vixen,  this  lady  disdain, 
why,  bust  my  buttons,  zif  I  hain't  dinged 
glad  ov  it.  Yes,  Abby,  I  shorely  iz." 

The  old  gentleman  paused  a  moment  to 
give  her  speech,  but  she  sat  silent  and  he 
went  on  : 

"Now,  hunny,  tell  me  as  you  don't 
care  a  snap  zif  he  are  gone  ;  "  watching 
her  keenly  for  the  truth. 

"No,  father;  indeed  I  do  not  care," 
and  the  truth  spoke  in  her  expressive 
eyes,  as  well  as  in  the  silvery  sweetness 
of  her  voice.  ' '  I  may  have  been  silly, 
I  know,  but  now  I  am  glad  that  it  is  all 
over  between  us  ;  that  he  has  passed  out 
of  my  life  forever.  I  am  sure  that  it  is 
best  ;  a  deceitful  lover  could  not  make  a 
true  husband. " 

"  You  are  mighty  right ;  that's  jist  az 
true  az  preachin'  an'  I  know'd  hit  all 
along ;  but  still,  hunny,  fer  your  satisfac- 
tion I  would  a  shet  my  eyes  an'  my 
mouth  an'  a  let  ye  had  'im,  an'  a  tried 


22  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

ter  make  the  best  ov  a  bad  bargain. 
But  now,  Abby,  as  he  didn't  have  sense 
anuff  ter  know  which  side  ov  his  bread 
waz  buttered,  we'll  thes  let  him  slide 
an'  never  think  enny  more  about  him. 
Eh,  darlin'  ?" 

"I  shall  think  no  more  about  him. 
Certainly  I  shall  care  no  more  about 
him,"  she  answered,  with  spirit. 

"  That's  right  ;  that's  thes  what  a 
spunky  gurrill  should  do.  Thar's  a  heap 
better  fish  in  the  pond  than  Miss  Garden 
ever  cotched  outen  hit  with  her  pin-hook, 
I  don't  care  how  high  she  cocks  up  her 
nose.  An'  now,  hunny,  I'me  a  coming 
ter  the  pint  :  sense  I  would  a  bin  will  in' 
fer  you  to  a  married  ter  suit  yerself, 
though  hit  would  a  went  mightily  agin 
the  grain,  now  I  wants  ter  know  zif  I 
waz  ter  pick  ye  out  a  nice,  good-lookin' 
feller,  a  real  born  gentleman,  would  ye  be 
willin,  ter  marry  ter  suit  me.  Thes  ter 
please  me,  Abby  ? " 

"Marry  to  please  you?"  opening  the 
fawn-like  eyes  in  startled  wonder. 

"Yes;   that's  hit." 

"  But  why  should  I  marry  at  all,  father  ? 
Surely  you  are  not  wanting  to  get  rid  of 
me?" 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  23 

"  Oh,  no.  Not  ter  git  shet  ov  you,  but 
thes  becase  it  is  natcheral.  All  wimmin, 
sometime  or  other,  are  bound  ter  marry ; 
they  war  made  a  purpose,  an'  they  are  thes 
bound  ter  do  hit  ;  an'  if  they  can't  make  a 
spoon  they're  shore  to  spile  a  horn." 

"But,  father,  I  have  no  wish  to  marry. 
There  is  no  one  whom  I  love — better  than 
you,"  she  demurely  added,  after  a  little 
stop. 

"Yes,  but  I've  picked  ye  out  a  sweet- 
heart ;  he's  young,  an'  good-lookin'  an'  he's 
smart ;  got  more  sense  in  a  minit  than  Tom 
'ill  ever  have  in  a  lifetime.  He's  true  an' 
he's  honest,  an'  he's  kind-harted  ;  I'ze  bin  a 
watchin'  'im,  an'  tother  day  I  seed  'im  pick 
up  a  little  nigger  chile  'at  had  stumped  his 
toe  an'  fell  a  crying  in  the  gutter  ;  an',  aside 
all  this,  Abby,  he's  ov  good  stock  ;  one  ov  the 
best  famblys  in  the  state.  He's  a  gentle- 
man ;  a  regular  pump-sole,  waz  borned  rich 
an'  waz  raised  rich  ;  is  well  eddicated  an'  all 
that.  Thes  now  his  daddy  is  a  leetle  under 
the  weather,  in  an'  leetle  money  tight,  but 
that  don't  matter ;  yell  have  enuff  fer 
both ;  an'  oh,  my  darlin',  I  would  be  mon- 
stus  proud  ter  see  my  purty  darter  married 
ter  such  a  feller,  an'  in  such  a  fambly." 

The  young  lady  did   not  speak,  but  the 


24  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

large,  expressive  eyes  grew  larger  as  the 
wonder  grew  into  a  half  fear. 

"  Yes,  Grace," — Grace  was  the  name  her 
mother  had  given  her  and  he  always  called 
her  Grace  when  in  pathetic  earnestness,— 
"  yes,  Grace,  I  have  sot  my  ole  heart  on  this 
match,  an'  hit  would  make  me  so  proud  if  ye 
would,  an'  I  do  believe  hit  would  break  my 
heart  if  you  won't." 

The  girl  was  touched,  for  Abigail  Hardie 
was  not  an  undutiful  daughter.  She  had 
known  and  silently  felt  the  sacrifice  of  all 
ambition,  and  pride  he  had  made  in  yield- 
ing to  the  choice  her  inexperienced  and 
slightly  perverse  girlhood  had  first  made, 
and  now  that  that  folly  had  passed  and  the 
fatherly  wisdom  that  had  feared  for  her 
happiness,  and  had  yet  silently  deferred  to 
her  choice,  had  been  vindicated  by  the  faith- 
lessness of  her  lover,  she  felt  that  something 
in  the  way  of  gratitude,  if  not  filial  duty, 
was  due  him.  And  then,  by  some  strange 
psychological  chance,  or  coincidence,  she 
thought  of  her  mother,  and  in  that  moment 
of  tender  remembrance  of  the  sainted  dead 
and  of  daughterly  reverence  for  the  living, 
she  bowed  her  soul  to  her  father's  will ;  and 
without  further  question  as  to  whom  it 
was,  or  when  it  was  to  be,  she  answered,  as 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  25 

a  Biblical  daughter  of  one  of  the  patriarchs 
might  have  answered  : 

' '  You  have  been  good  to  me,  father,  kind 
and  considerate  in  all  things,  and  it  is  as  lit- 
tle as  I  can  do  to  obey  you  in  all  things.  I 
can  trust  your  love  implicitly,  and  if  you 
think  it  best  that  I  should  marry,  then  I 
will  marry,  whom  you  may  choose,  and 
whenever  you  will. " 

' '  You  are  a  good  gurrill,  Grace,  an'  ye 
spoke  .thes  then  like  yer  mammy  would  'a' 
talked.  Ye  haz  made  me  monstus  glad, 
case  I  know  hit's  fer  yer  own  good.  I  have 
not  chused  blindly,  an'  I  am  shore  he  will 
love  ye." 

"If  I  make  myself  lovable,  lean  compel 
his  love,"  she  answered. 

"  Tu-by-shore,  tu-by-shore.  In  course  ye 
will.  He  thes  can't  help  hit.  He's  bound 
ter  love  ye.  But  I  don't  b'lieve  that  I've 
told  ye,  yet,  who  he  is  ? " 

"  No  ;   please  tell  me  ? " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  az  you  know  'im, 
but  hits  Mr.  David  Winston,  a  son  ov  the 
Jedge,  only  a  heap  younger  an'  a  heap 
smarter.  The  Jedge  is  sorter  stuck  up  on 
his  blue-blood,  ye  know  ;  fust  fambly  pump- 
sole  pernella,  white  kid  gloves,  an'  all  that 
sort  ov  thing,  while  David  is  bankin'  on 


26  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

brains.  Thar's  a  team  fer  ye  :  the  Jedge's 
blood,  David's  brains  an'  your  money,  ter  say 
nothin'  ov  yer  purty  looks  !  I  Golly  !  hit 
makes  me  laff  ter  think  about  hit.  Ye 
knows  'im,  don't  ye  ? " 

"  Oh,  is  he  the  man  ?  I  am  so  glad.  Yes, 
I  know  him,  or  no,  I  do  not  know  him.  I 
have  no  personal  acquaintance  with  him  ; 
we  are  not  in  the  same  set,  you  know,"  with 
a  little  flush.  ' '  But  I  have  seen  him  and 
heard  him  speak.  I  heard  him  night  before 
last,  at  the  City  Hall.  I  went  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Grey ;  he  was  really  eloquent  and  I 
was  quite  proud  of  his  triumph,  for  of 
course  it  was  a  triumph,  everybody  said 
so." 

"  Yes  ;  he's  a  trump,  both  bowers  and  the 
joker,  an'  better  'an  all  he's  a  true-blue 
dimmycrat,  an'  he's  thes  as  shore  tu  beat 
the  hine-sights  off  ov  Tom  Lawson  as  the 
'lection  day  comes  round.  I'll  stake  a  cool 
thousan'  on  hit." 

"Oh,  I  do  hope  he  will  I" 

"  Oh,  he's  bound  to  do  hit  ;  only,  Abby, 
we  'ill  have  ter  pitch  in  an'  leg  for  'im. 
An'  that's  why  I'm  in  sich  a  hurry  ter  fix 
things  up  atween  ye.  I  wants  us  ter  help 
'im.  As  I  tells  ye,  the  ole  Jedge  is  in  a 
money  tight ;  the  facks  is,  Abby,  he's  dead 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  27 

broke,  busted  higher  than  a  kite ;  an'  poor 
David  'ill  have  ter  paddle  his  own  canoe,  all 
by  hisself  while  Tom  Lawson's  rich  wife  is 
putting  in  her  oar,  an'  thes  a  spending 
money  by  the  barrel.  So,  Abby,  hunny,  zif 
you  an'  him  can  fix  hit  up  atwixt  ye,  I 
wants  ye  ter  do  it  right  away,  I  don't  care 
zif  hit  waz  to-night.  Marry  at  once,  an' 
then  you  can  roll  up  yer  sleeves  an'  pitch  in 
like  a  house  afire.  I'll  plank  down  ten 
dollars  for  Tom  Lawson's  wife's  one.  Hel- 
low,  what  is  it,  Nanny  ? "  as  a  negro  waiting- 
girl  stepped  in. 

"  Hit's  anoat,  Mr.  Winston's  boy  fotched," 
she  answered,  presenting  a  letter,  with  a 
courtesy. 

"  Oh-ho  !  a  letter  fer  me  ?  Ye  must  read 
hit  fer  me,  Abby,  I  hain't  got  my  specks 
handy." 

The  young  lady  opened  the  missive  and 
read  : 

"  MB.  ISRAEL  HARDIE — DEAR  SIR  :  My  father  in- 
forms me  that  you  have  appointed  an  interview  with  him 
for  to-morrow.  As  I  am  interested  in  the  matter  in  ques- 
tion, it  is,  perhaps,  essential  that  I  be  present,  and  as  I  have 
an  appointment  to  speak  at  Red  Oak,  at  one  p.  M.,  I  hope 
that  you  can  find  it  convenient  to  call  early,  say  at  ten 
o'clock. 

"Very  respectfully, 
"  Your  obedient  and  humble  servant, 

"DAVID  It.  WINSTON." 


28  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Ah-ha!  that's  all  right.  Whar's  the 
nigger  that  brought  hit  ? " 

"He's  at  dedoor." 

"Then  111  tell  'im,"  starting  out. 

"  Father,  would  it  not  be  better  to  write 
the  answer  ? "  suggested  the  young  lady. 

"Eh,  well?  mebby  hit  mought.  Yes,  I 
s'pose  that  would  be  the  proper  kink.  But 
you  must  write  hit  fer  me." 

"Very  well,"  and  out  she  hurried  to  run 
up  to  her  own  little  writing-room,  or  study, 
to  indite  the  answer. 

"Here  it  is,"  she  said,  returning  a  few 
moments  later.  "  Shall  I  read  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  read  hit  ter  me." 

"  MR.  DAVID  K.  WINSTON  :  I  can  readily  accommodate 
my  time  to  your  own  convenience,  and  will  meet  you  at  ten 
A.  M.,  as  requested. 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  ISRAEL  HARDIE." 

"That's  the  dictum.  Thest  az  good  az 
hizzen  ;  but,  Abby,  why  didn't  ye  write  on 
finer  paper  ;  little  sweet-smelling  note  with 
thing- a-ma jigs  around  the  aiges  ?  " 

"That  would  hardly  be  in  good  taste. 
This  is  a  plain  business  note  and  it  should 
be  on  plain  business  paper." 

"  That's  a  fac' ;  bizness  is  bizness,  an'  hits 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.          .  29 

allers  best  not  ter  have  too  many  curlima- 
cues  about  it.  Here,  Nanny,  give  hit  ter  his 
man,  an'  here,  here  is  half  a  dollar,  give  hit 
ter  him  fer  good  luck." 

"  Yes,  sah,"  and  courtesying  out,  the  girl 
hurried  down  to  the  door. 

"Yere,  you  nigger;  yere's  de  letter. 
Young  Mistus,  Miss  Grace  writ  it  herseff. 
She  kin  write  same's  a  man,  Miss  Grace 
kin  ;  but  you  needn't  go  an'  tell  you  young 
Marse  so ;  an'  yere,  yere's  a  haff  ole  Marse 
sont  yer  ;  I'ze  a  great  mine  to  keep  hit 
myseff,  though,"  presenting  the  note  and 
holding  up  the  tantalizing  fee  above  her 
head,  in  true  African  coquetry. 

"Tanky,  miss;  you's  de  purtiest  waitin'- 
gal  in  all  de  town  ;  come,  gimme  de  haff, 
an'  I'll  give  yer  a  kiss.  Oh,  hit's  no  yuse 
ter  dodge,  I'ze  bound  ter  have  'em  boff," 
making  a  grab  for  the  coin  and  then  hold- 
ing her  for  the  kiss. 

"  Go  long  wid  ye,  yer  black  nigger,  you  ; 
hain't  yer  'shamed  ov  yerseff ,  wid  yer  pro- 
jickin'  rite  yere  on  de  whit  folkse's  door  in 
broad  daylight  ?  Dar,  den, "  complacently 
yielding,  ' '  take  hit  an'  be  off  wid  yerseff, 
afore  Sam  sees  you  an'  bustes  yer  head  fer 
you." 

"  Zif  yer  please,  sah,  yere  is  de  note  dey 


30  .          DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

toled  me  ter  fotch  ye,  an'  de  waitin'-gal  sez 
dat  de  young  Mistus  wrote  hit  sheseff," 
said  Jake,  as,  hat  in  hand,  he  stood  before 
his  young  Master  a  few  minutes  later. 

The  young  gentleman  carelessly  opened 
and  read  it. 

"Ah,  this  is  well  worded  and  neatly  writ- 
ten, a  very  pretty  and  characteristic  hand. 
I  wonder  if  she  really  did  write  it  ?  Pshaw, 
no  !  Of  course  not  ;  she  has  an  amanuensis, 
and  that  is  much  better  than  the  gift  of 
writing  itself.  What  is  the  use  of  brains  of 
one's  own  if  one  has  the  money  to  buy  the 
brains  of  others.  Ah,  what  a  blessed  thing 
it  is  to  have  money  !  " 


CHAPTER   in. 

A     FAIR     BARGAIN. 

"WELL,  Abby,  hit's  nearly  ten ;  'ginst  I 
walk  over  ter  the  Jedge's  hit'll  be  time. 
Good-morning,  huimy,"  tenderly  kissing  her 
good-bye.  "  What  shell  I  tell  yer  sweet- 
heart ? "  in  a  more  cheerful  vein. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  laughingly 
answered,  "unless  I  write  across  your 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.        .  31 

back,  '  Barkis  is  willin',"  and  with  a 
strange  flutter,  as  if  half  scared  at  her  bold- 
ness, she  ran  back  through  the  hall  to  her 
room. 

Promptly  to  the  moment,  the  old  gentle- 
man knocked  at  the  Judge's  office. 

"  That  is  the  old  hound  now.  Show  him 
in,  Jake.  Father,  you  must  receive  him,  I 
really  haven't  the  patience  to  talk  to  him," 
whispered  the  young  man. 

"  Yes,  you  only  be  quiet  and  let  me  man- 
age him.  Ah,  Mr.  Hardie,  is  that  you  ?  I 
hope  you  are  in  good  health  this  morning. " 

"  Yes,  Jedge,  hit's  me  ;  good-morning,  sir. 
I'm  purty  tol'able,  thank  ye,  that  is  'ceptin' 
a  little  tech  ov  the  rumatiz  in  the  left 
shoulder.  Hope  you  find  yourseff  the  same," 
effusively  grasping  the  Judge's  dainty  fin- 
gers in  his  horny  grip  and  giving  them  a 
squeeze  that  set  every  nerve  in  his  system 
a-tremble.  "Eh,  an'  here  is  Mr.  David; 
Howdy  do,  sir,  howdy,"  dropping  the  deli- 
cate hand  of  the  father  and  seizing  upon 
the  sturdier  palm  of  the  son.  ' '  I'm  rael  glad 
ter  see  you.  Hope  I  didn't'  keep  yer  waitin'  ? " 

"  No  ;  you  are  on  time." 

"Yes,  I  allers  is  ;  I  makes  it  a  pint  allers 
ter  gitthar." 

"  Of  course;  but  as  my  own  time  is  limited, 


32  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

I  hope  you  will  be  seated,  and.  dispensing 
with  ceremony,  proceed  at  once  to  business," 
a  little  ungraciously. 

"  Now,  you're  talkin'.  Business  fust  an' 
ceremony  arterwards.  I  hain't  much  on 
ceremony  nohow,  an'  asides,  I  haz  a  lot  ov 
other  bizness  ter  tend  to  ter-day.  Ter- 
day's  return  day,  you  know,  an'  I've  a 
lot  ov  lame  ducks  ter  look  after." 

"Well,  sir,  what  is  it  I  am  to  understand 
you  wish  ? "  direct  from  the  young  man,  a 
little  nettled  at  the  suggestion  of  lame 
ducks. 

"Hey  !  I  sposed  yer  daddy  had  'splained 
ever'thing,  eh,  Jedge  ? " 

"My  father  has  explained  his  unfort- 
unate indebtedness  to  you — 

"  Tu-by-shore,"  nodding  encouragingly. 

' '  And  he  assures  me  of  his  utter  inability 
to  pay  it  now." 

"Ah  !  has  he  ?  then  I  am  glad  ;  that  is  I 
am  sorry  for  the  Jedge,  but  hit  ain't  so  much 
the  money  I  am  after  as  the  t'other  thing. " 

"  What  other  thing  ?  "  with  a  look. 

"Why,  didn't  he  tell  ye?  'bout  the 
marrying,  ov  course  :  you  an'  Abby." 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Hardie,  that  you  are  not 
seriously  in  earnest  about  that  impossible 
thing?" 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  33 

"  Earnest  !  In  course  I  am.  In  cool,  sober 
yearnest.  Why  not  ?  " 

"Because  it  is  preposterous.  I  must  tell 
you  at  once  and  for  all,  that  such  a  thing 
can  never  be.  I  would  not  marry  your 
daughter  were  she  a  solid  lump  of  gold 
from  the  crown  of  her  head  to  the  sole  of 
her  foot/' 

"Well,  I  should  say  not  !  an'  I  wouldn't 
ax  yer  zif  she  waz  in  that  kin'  ov  a  fix. 
Why,  she  wouldn't  be  no  better'n  a 
heathen  nimmage.  But  Abby  hain't  that 
sort  ov  a  cat.  She's  wuff  her  weight  in 
gold,  an'  the  man  as  gits  her  will  git  hit, 
with  a  nigger  throwed  in  with  every 
pound,  but  thar's  no  gold  about  her  make- 
up, not  even  in  her  teeth;  she's  all  gurrill 
shore  anuff,  flesh  an'  blood,  pure,  plump, 
an'  fat,  every  inch  ov  her,  an'  as  true  grit  as 
you  ever  seed." 

'  "I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Hardie,  but 
you  misapprehend  me.  I  have  no  possible 
doubt  of  the  carnal  genuineness  of  the 
young  lady,  nor  do  I  question  the  substan- 
tial solidity  of  her  corporosity,  with  its 
tempting  jointure  of  gold  and  negroes ; 
but  what  I  mean  is  this  :  all  these  things,  the 
gold  and  negroes,  with  a  million  more  could 
never  make  me  so  far  debase  my  manhood, 


34  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

so  far  forget  my  family,  to  say  nothing  of 
myself,  as  to  think  of  marrying  a  woman  so 
far  beneath  me  in  everything  that  honorable 
men  hold  dear,  or  women  hold  precious. " 

The  old  man  staggered  as  if  stricken  by 
a  blow.  It  was  a  blow,  a  cruel,  unmanly 
thrust,  and  it  struck  home  to  the  heart. 
The  young  man  noticed  the  hurt  look,  not 
resentful,  but  pathetic  in  its  anguish,  and 
he  would  have  given  much  to  have  recalled 
the  bitter  words  ;  but  he  could  not,  and 
before  he  could  frame  an  apology  the  old 
man  spoke. 

"Ye  speaks  mighty  plain,  sir,  an'  mebby 
hit  is  best,  but  I'm  monstus  sorry,  sorry  fer 
you,  as  well  as  fer  her  an'  fer  your  daddy. 
I  bed  so  sot  my  heart  on  the  scheme,  an'  I 
wouldn't  mine  hit  so  bad  zif  I  hadn't  a  went 
an'  'suaded  Abby  in  the  notion  too.  Pore 
gurrill,  hit'll  cut  her  feathers  powerful  ter 
have  herseff  throwed  back  at  herseff  like 
this.  She  hain't  ole  an'  tough  like  me 
as  have  rubbed  agin  the  world  tell  I've  got 
usened  ter  hits  jagged  aiges,  but  she's  as 
tender-footed  in  her  feelin's  as  any  lady  in 
the  land,  I  don't  care  whar  they  comes 
from.  I've  never  in  all  her  life  let  trubble 
come  anigh  her." 

"I  am  sorry,  too,  that  I  spoke  so  plainly 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  35 

—that  I  had  to  speak  at  all.  I  would  not 
willingly  hurt  you,  but  I  could  not  other- 
wise express  nay  meaning.  I  only  wish 
you  to  understand  how  utterly  impossible 
this  thing  is,"  David  answered,  in  a  kind  of 
subdued  apology. 

"Yes,  I  understands,  an'  as  that  pint  is 
settled,  we'll  let  it  slide  an'  take  up  the 
tother  one." 

"  Yes;   what  is  it  we  can  do  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  'tis  ye  can  do,  but  I 
kin  tell  ye  what  'tis  I  wants.  Ter-day  is 
return  day  an'  I  wants  my  money  ? " 

' '  We  are  very  sorry,  Mr.  Hardie,  but  as  I 
told  you  just  now,  my  father  has  confessed 
his  inability  to  pay  you.  The  notes,  as  I 
understand,  are  well  secured  ;  could  you  not 
be  generous  and  grant  us  an  extension  ?  We 
would  be  willing  to  increase  the  interest." 

"Well,  no  !  'Tain't  no  yuse.  Ye  can't 
pay  the  intrust  now  'thout  makin'  hit  more, 
an'  asides  I  don't  want  any  more  intrust ; 
seven  per  cent,  is  anuff  fer  me.  Big  intrust 
allers  makes  poor  debts,  an'  hits  more  than 
ye  uns  can  pay.  Ye  see  as  how  I'll  hev  ter 
talk  a  leetle  plain,  too  ;  not  as  I  is  mad,  nor 
disapinted,  'caze  I  hain't,  an'  zif  I  waz  I'd 
not  let  that  mix  along  with  my  bizniss. 
The  man's  a  fool  as  will  do  that ;  mix  hiz 


36  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

feelings  up  along  with  hiz  bizniss,  he  thes 
cuts  off  hiz  nose  ter  spite  hiz  face.  No, 
bizness  is  bizness  an'  spite  is  spite,  an'  the 
two  won't  mix  ;  an'  ter  come  square  down 
ter  the  pint,  the  security  hain't  good  ;  that 
is,  I  means,  'that  hit  is  good  anuff  so  fur  as 
hit  goes,  but  hit  don't  begin  to  reach  the 
gooddy." 

"  You  have  a  mortgage  on  all  our 
property.  That  should  be  sufficient  to  cover 
every  cent  we  owe  you,"  feebly  protested 
the  young  man. 

"No,  but  hit  ain't !  If  all  the  rale  estate 
an'  every  blessed  nigger  ye  have  waz  put  on 
the  block  ter-day  hit  wouldn't  bring  the 
haff  ov  it." 

"But  you  need  not  put  it  on  the  block. 
There  is  no  need  of  a  sale.  I  will  transfer  it 
to  you  in  fee-simple  now,"  interposed  the 
Judge. 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't  want  the  property,  I've 
got  more  sich  now  than  I  can  yuse,  and 
more  Ian'  than  I  kin  pay  taxes  on,  an'  more 
niggers  than  I  kin  feed." 

"  But  you  can  hold  it  until  you  can  realize 
its  value,  and  then  indemnify  yourself  for 
all  cost." 

"Yes;  that  would  do  zif  times  war  like 
they  used  ter  waz,  but  they  hain't ;  and  fur- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  37 

thersome  more,  they  is  a  gitting  wuss  an' 
wuss.  The  longer  I  kept  hit  the  littler  hit 
would  fetch.  Hit  'ulcl  be  like  buying  a  sick 
nigger,  with  the  galloping  consumption,  an' 
waiting  f er  niggers  ter  go  up.  An'  afore  nig- 
gers riz  he'd  lay  down  an'  die  an'  'then  whar'd 
you  be  ?  No,  no  ;  thar's  no  sense  in  that.  I 
knows  yer  bizness,  Jedge,  thest  as  well  az 
you-uns  know  hit,  an'  mebby  a  leetle  more 
so,  an'  the  longer  I  waits  on  you  the  wusser 
hit  gits  ;  the  harder  hit  will  be  fer  you  ter 
pay,  an'  the  less  chance  I  will  heve  ter  git 
my  money.  An'  then,  agin,  thar's  a  nuther 
pint ;  zif  I  war  ter  take  the  property  thes  dry 
so,  without  a  foreclosure  ov  the  morgidges, 
I'd  hev  the  Garden  estate  a  bouncing  on 
me  like  a  duck  upon  a  June-bug,  fer  what 
you  owes  'em.  The  gurrill  is  married,  yer 
know,  an'  will  soon  be  arter  you  with  a 
sharp  stick  fer  the  money.  No,  no  ;  Jedge, 
hit  won't  do." 

"But  cannot  you  arrange  it  with  your  son 
to  give  me  a  little  time  on  that  matter  ? " 
pleaded  the  Judge,  in  abject  despair. 

' '  He  ain't  no  son  ov  mine,  Tom  hain't. 
I've  got  no  son  an'  I'm  dinged  glad  ov  it,  fer 
he  is  a  trifling  puppy,  Tom  is  ;  I  don't  care  if 
I  did  fotch  'im  up  myseff,  same  as  he'd  a 
been  my  own." 


38  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Not  your  son!  You  surprise  me;" 
exclaimed  the  Judge. 

"  No  ;  I  hain't  got  nary  chile  in  the  wur- 
ruld,  'ceptin  Abby,  an'  I  don't  want  any, 
nuther.  Tom  Hardie  hain't  nuthin'  but  a 
tacky  I  picked  up  outen  the  woods,  up  on 
Harrycane  crick,  an'  I  raised  'im  like  a 
whitehead,  only  ter  hev  'im  turn  an'  bite  me, 
like  the  snake  we  yused  ter  read  about  in 
the  spellin'  book.  No,  Jedge,  I've  got  noth- 
in  creation  ter  do  erlong  with  Tom,  nor  his 
wife,  nuther.  She  holds  her  head  too  high 
fer  me  ;  an  the  onliest  way  I  see  fer  me 
ter  help  ye  would,  be  thes  ter  run  my 
hand  down  in  my  pockit  an'  haul  out  the 
spondulix  ;  which  I  'ould  a  bin  willin'  ter  do 
zif  this  tuther  little  game  had  a  worked. 
An',  even  now,  Jedge,  I'd  like  ter  help  ye  zif 
I  could  see  my  way  outen  the  woods.  But 
I  can't  see  hit.  Hit  'ould  be  thes  a  takin' 
the  money  as  I  haz  saved  up  fer  Abby 
outen  her  own  pocket  an'  a  puttin'  hit  in 
yourn,  an'  that,  I  hardly  think  you'd  like 
fer  me  ter  do,  seein'  as  how  we  hain't  no 
kin?" 

"  No,  no,  certainly  not  ;  but,  Mr.  Hardie, 
I  have  other  resources  ;  not  immediately 
available,  it  is  true,  but  they  will  be  in  time, 
a  very  short  while,  I  hope.  The  Willoughby 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  39 

claim  is  just  and  true,  and  I  am  certain  to 
recover  the  full  amount,  with  damages." 

"Oh,  yes,  I've  looked  in  that  thing  too, 
an'  I  think  as  ye  will  finally  git  hit,  an'  I 
hopes  ter  gracious  ye  will,  fer  I  thinks,  my- 
seff,  that  the  debt  is  a  just  one,  but  then  the 
law  iz  a  mighty  oncertain  critter,  an'  hit  'ill  be 
a  monstus  long  time  a  coming.  Hit  may  do 
your  gran-chillen  some  good,  but  hit  'ill 
never  buy  socks  fer  your  darter,  nor  yer 
son,  nuther.  But,  Jedge,  yer  knows  the  law 
better  nor  I  kin  tell  ye,  but  still,  zif  I  war 
you,  I  wouldn't  bank  too  much  on  the  Wil- 
loughby  case." 

"  But,  my  God,  man,  what  am  I  to  do  ? " 
groaned  the  Judge,  as  the  astute  old  man 
hauled  out  and  mercilessly  rattled  the  bones 
of  the  hideous  skeleton  he  had  been  trying 
so  long  to  hide,  even  from  himself. 

"I  don't  see  as  ye  kin  do  nothin'.  I've 
waited  az  long  az  I  reasonly  kin,  an'  hit's 
no  sorter  yuse  ter  wait  any  longer.  Hit 
would  a  bin  better  zif  we  had  a  closed  hit  up 
yisterdy,  without  all  this  wurry  'bout  Abby, 
but  I  wanted  ter  give  ye  every  chance  I 
could.  I  don't  say  hit  to  scare  ye,  Jedge,  but 
I  can't  see  things  az  ye  see  'em.  I  studied 
hit  all  out  afore  I  corned  ter  ye  yisterdy, 
an'  hits  no  yuse  a  talkin',  you's  in  a  nine- 


40  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

hole  thest  az  certin  az  shooting.  An'  that's 
how  I  corned  ter  make  the  plot  I  did  ter  try 
an'  bring  hit  all  in  the  fambly,  like,  an' 
then  I  could  step  in  an'  help  ye.  I  seed  ye 
waz  flat  when  ye  couldn't  see  hit  yerseff, 
an'  I  wanted  ter  lift  yer  up  agin  afore  any 
body  else  knowed  it.  I  hain't  no  big  bug 
myseff,  but  I  somehow  hates  ter  see  a  big 
bug  get  stuck  in  the  mud.  Hit  puts  fokes 
ter  talkin'.  An'  thar's  your  son,  Mr. 
David,"  reaching  out  his  hand  in  uncon- 
scious protection,  "I  wanted  ter  help  'im 
too.  I  don't  know  why  hit  is,  but  somehow 
or  nuther  my  heart  has  alless  had  a  sneakin' 
hankerin'  arter  that  boy." 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Hardie,  and  I 
must  thank  you  for  your  goodness,"  cried 
the  young  man,  instinctively -reaching  for 
the  friendly  hand. 

"No;  hits  thes  nacheral,  an'  I  couldn't 
help  it.  Hit  thes  corned  dry  so  an'  you 
needn't  mine  it, "  patting  the  offered  hand  in 
a  vague  apology  for  the  presumption  of  his 
kindly  feelings. 

"  But  cannot  you  help  us,  without  bind- 
ing our  children  to  what  may  be  to  them 
both  a  lifetime  of  misery  ? "  asked  the 
Judge,  in  one  more  blind  appeal  for  help. 

"No,    that    wouldn't    be    nacheral;  hit 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  41 

'ould  be  sorter  like  givin'  hit  away  ;  an'  I 
don't  think,  Jedge,  'zif  ye  'ill  look  at  hit  a 
minit  that  ye  'ould  like  ter  hev  hit  that 
way.  Hit  'ould  hardly  be  honerable,  now, 
would  hit,  Jedge  ? 

"And  do  you  think,  sir,"  fiercely  put  in 
the  young  man,  "  that  it  would  be  any  the 
less  dishonorable  for  me  to  marry  your 
daughter,  a  woman  whom  I  have  never 
seen,  and  for  whom  I  have  no  regard,  not 
even  so  much  as  a  decent  respect  ?  To 
marry  her  simply  for  her  money  ?  " 

"Well,  yes;  hits  more  like  bizness,  an' 
bizness  is  honerable,  zif  hits  all  square  an' 
fair.  An'  that's  what  I  waz  wanting  ter 
make  this.  I  wanted  no  hiding  o'  faults  or 
meannesses  about  hit  like  a  trading  in 
niggers,  but  I  wanted  ever'thing  plain  an' 
above  board  ;  no  juggling  under  the  kiver  ; 
but  I  wanted  ye  ter  see  Abby,  an'  if  you  can 
fine  one  kinky  hair  in  her  head,  or  one  black 
spot  on  her  character,  then  you  needn't  tech 
her  with  a  ten- foot  pole.  Hit  iz  thest  a 
matter  ov  bizness,  an'  ther's  a  blamed  sight 
more  honnerbleness  in  a  straightforard 
bizness,  than  thar  is  in  the  law  ;  I  kin  tell 
yer  that,  Jedge,  or  in  politics  uther,  Mr. 
David.  But  that  hain't  the  pint,"  he  con- 
tinued, after  a  pause  to  challenge  dispute  to 


42  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

his  axiom.  "  Now  here's  the  way  I  looks  at 
this  bizness  :  you're  a  young  man  ;  you've 
got  sense,  an'  eddication,  an'  ambition,  an' 
brass  anuff  ter  match ;  you've  got  a  good 
name,  an'  come  ov  a  good  family ;  you 
stands  high,  an'  ye  wants  ter  clime  still 
higher.  Well,  I  glories  in  your  spunk,  an' 
I'm  for  ye.  You're  a  dimmicrat  an'  so's  me, 
I  allers  was  one  an'  I  spects  ter  be  one  tell 
Gabriel  toots  his  horn ;  I  tells  yer  what's  a 
fac'  ;  I'd  rather  be  a  noxen  than  ter  be  a 
whig ;  but  thar's  thes  one  thing  ye  lacks, 
young  man,  an'  that's  the  one  thing  need- 
ful ;  you  lacks  money  ;  the  spizarinctum. 
Now,  thar's  no  yuse  a  kicking,  yer  daddy's 
busted,  too  bacl  ter  skin.  I  don't  say  this 
ter  hurt  yer  feelings,  but  thest  ter  let  yer 
see  yourseff,  as  I  sees  ye,,  an'  as  the  Bank 
sees  ye.  Here's  all  these  papers  ov  your 
daddy,  they  calls  fer  a  mint  ov  money,  but 
unless  I  scratched  my  own  name  acrost  they 
backs,  I  couldn't  get  fifty  thousand  dollars 
on  'em.  I'm  monstus  sorry  hits  so,  but  so 
it  is." 

"Yes,  it  is  sad,"  drearily  acquiesced  the 
young  gentleman. 

"  Adzactly  ;  an'  thar  is  thest  whar  ye 
stand.  An'  now,  here  is  Abby  :  she's  got  the 
money,  thest  oodles  ov  it ;  outside  ov  these 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  43 

little  things,  I've  got  a  cool  millyun  salted 
down  fer  her,  an'  what's  hern  would  a  bin 
yourn,  an'  that  would  'a'  put  yer  daddy  on 
his  legs  again,  an'  'a'  put  ye  a  long  way 
ahead  ov  anybody  in  this  deestrick.  An' 
asides  all  this,  thar's  Abby  herself  ;  az  I  tole 
yer  daddy  yisterday,  she's  no  slouch  ter 
be  grinned  at,  but  a  rael  sniptious  gurrill. 
She's  powerful  purty,  zif  I  do  say  it,  my- 
self, an'  she's  smart ;  I've  spent  a  sight  ov 
money  on  her  raisin'  an'  she's  well  eddi- 
cated.  I  lay  she  kin  spell  ever'  word  in  the 
spellin'  book  by  heart,  an'  I'll  bet  a  coon- 
skin,  that  she  can  turn  you  down  in  Lat- 
ting,  er  Greek,  er  even  Dutch,  an'  she  kin 
thest  beat  ole  Tom  Walker,  hisseff,  a  playin' 
on  the  pianny.  She's  never  bin  about 
amungst  the  big  bugs  much,  though  she's 
got  some  nice  gurrill  friends  what  writes  ter 
her  from  Charleston,  an'  Baltimore,  what 
she  got  acquainted  with  at  school.  But 
as  I  was  a  sayin',  round  yere,  she  don't  mix 
along  with  the  pumpsoles  much,  caze  she's 
monstus  proud,  an'  she  knos  as  how  they  all 
turn  up  thar  noses  at  her  ole'  homespun 
daddy  ;  but  fer  all  that,  she  can  hold  a 
candle  to  any  ov'  em.  Thar  'ould  a  been  no 
need  fer  you  ever  ter  be  ashamed  ov  her, 
no,  not  even  if  ye  tooked  her  to  Congress 


44  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

with  ye.  Hey ;  mebby  ye  think  I  don't 
know  what  I'm  a  talkin'  about,  but  I  does," 
as  the  young  man  had  to  smile  at  the  ab- 
surdity of  his  enthusiasm.  "I  hain't  much 
on  style  myseff,  but  I  knows  the  right  thing 
when  I  see  it,"  and  in  ludicrous  vindication 
of  his  intuitive  breeding,  the  old  gentle- 
man triumphantly  fumbled  his  flashy  seals. 

His  auditors  could  find  nothing  to  say,  and 
pausing  a  moment  for  breath  he  continued  : 

"An' asides  all  that,  she's  got  some  grit 
herseff,  Abby  haz.  Thar  hain't  a  spunkyer 
'ummon  in  all  this  town  than  she  is  ;  an'  ye 
thes  git  her  dander  raised  an'  I'd  like  ter  see 
the  gurrill,  er  man  uther,  in  all  this  lay-out 
that  could  crawl  over  her.  I  tell  ye,  sir,  that 
she'd  a  backed  ye  with  teeth  an'  toe-nails,  an' 
with  her  money  ter  push  ye  an'  her  grit  ter 
back  ye,  ye  'ould  thes  'a'  been  bound  ter 
knock  the  hine-sights  off  ov  Lawson.  Why, 
sir,  she's  a  plotting  fer  ye  a'ready." 

"  She  is  very  good." 

"  Yes,  when  I  went  home,  yisterday,  arter 
the  talk  I  had  with  yer  daddy,  an'  told  her 
ov  my  plans,  an'  'suaded  her  into  the  notion  ; 
ye  see,  like  ye  she  didn't  take  ter  hit  at  the 
fust  jump  ;  she  didn't  think  hit  right  fer 
fokes  ter  marry  thes  so  kinder  off-hand  like, 
without  any  courtin'  or  pea-vining,  ye  know. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  45 

She  said  as  people  should  know  something 
about  each  other  afore  they  hitched  ter- 
gether  fer  life  ;  thes  as  if  young  fokes  a 
courtin'  could  ever  fine  one  a  nuther  out, 
when  they  both  are  doin'  thar  level  best  ter 
show  thar  best  pints  an'  ter  hide  thar  wust ; 
but  arter  I  argied  the  pint  with  her  awhile, 
an'  showed  her  how  much  I  'ad  sot  my  heart 
on  seeing  her  married  in  a  good  fambly, 
why  she  gin  in,  an'  said  yes,  she  'ould  marry 
thes  ter  please  me." 

"  Ah  !  she  is  a  dutiful  daughter,"  slightly 
ironically. 

"Yes,  she's  allers  been  a  good  chile.  An' 
then  when  I  told  her  who  hit  was  that  I 
had  picked  out  for  her,  an'  that  hit  waz  you, 
ye  thest  orter  a  seed  her  brighten  up,  an'  it 
would  a  done  ye  good  ter  see  how  she  lit 
inter  Tom  Lawson.  Ye  see  she  hearn  you 
tother  night  at  the  City  Hall,  an'  she  come 
home  chock  full  ov  you  an'  your  speech. 
An'  then  when  I  wanted  ter  sorter  feel  ov 
her  like,  an'  told  her  how  Lawson's  rich  wife 
was  a  planking  down  the  money,  an'  that 
you  had  none  to  call  his  hand,  she  thes  flared 
up  an'  sez,  sez  she,  '  Father,  we  must  see  the 
blind  and  go  ten  better  ; '  or  I  mean,  that  is, 
she  didn't  say  them  very  words,  but  that  waz 
what  she  meaned.  And,  I  gad,  sir ;  I  'ould 


46  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

'a'  done  hit.  Fer  every  dollar  Tom  Lawson 
put  down  I'd  'a'  put  ten  ;  I'd  'a'  thest  pulled 
the  bung  outen  the  bank  an'  'a'  let  'er 
run,  an'  zif  that  warn't  anuff  I'd  'a'  drawed 
on  Mobile.  But,  sirs,  that's  all  knocked  in  the 
head  now,  petered  out  wuss  nor  a  bline 
nigger  with  the  small-pox,  an'  I've  got  ter 
go  back  an  tell  her  that  hit's  no  go  ;  that  she 
hain't  no  meat  fitten  fer  sich  a  big  bug  az 
you.  I'ze  monstus  sorry  that  I  ever  started 
it ;  she'd  'a'  never  cared  anything  about  hit 
then." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  too  ;  truly  and  painfully 
sorry.  I  must  thank  you,  though,  for  the 
honor  you  intended  me,  and  thank  your 
daughter  for  her  generous  advocacy  of  my 
cause,"  the  young  gentleman  answered 
soberly.  ' '  But  the  question  recurs,  again  : 
what  are  we  to  do  ? "  he  added,  with  an 
involuntary  glance  at  his  father. 

"That's  fer  you  ter  say,  you  an'  yer 
daddy.  I've  had  my  say  an'  I've  sed  all  I've 
got  ter  say.  In  course,  I  sees  hit  from 
another  pint  ov  view  than  you  sees  hit ;  I'ze 
a  plain  bizness  man  an'  I  looks  at  it  from  a 
bizness  standpint.  Mebby  zif  I  seed  hit  as 
you  uns  see  hit  I  moutent  blame  you." 

"Father,  what  must  I  do?"  and  there 
was  the  pathos  of  despair  in  the  appeal. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  47 

"Alas!  I  cannot  say.  Would  to  God  I 
knew  what  to  do,"  answered  the  father, 
with  a  groan. 

"  Then  I  shall  cut  the  knot  at  once.  And, 
Mr.  Hardie,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  with- 
draw my  hasty  and  insulting  words  and  be 
kind  enough  to  renew  your  proposition,  I 
will  accept  your  offer  and  will  marry  your 
daughter. " 

"Tu-by-shore  I  will  renew  hit.  I  hain't 
never  took  hit  back  yit,  an'  it's  the  best 
bargain  ye  ever  struck  in  yer  life ;  so  lets 
shake  hands  on  it,"  grasping  the  reluctant 
hand  and  giving  it  an  excruciating  squeeze. 

"Yes;  I  will  marry  Miss  Hardie — I  pre- 
sume she  is  a  miss  ? — but  you  must  under- 
stand, and  she  too,  that  it  is  wholly  a 
matter  of  business.  I  give  her  my  hand  and 
name,  but  nothing  else  goes  with  it  ;  I  can 
give  her  no  love  ;  no  love  is  possible  ;  even 
respect  is  hardly  probable.  She  marries  me 
for  my  name  and  social  position  and  I  marry 
her  for  her  money." 

"Yes,  that's  all  hunkydory,  an  that's  the 
way  Abby  sorter  put  hit  herseff." 

' '  She  must  be  an  eminently  practical 
girl?" 

"  She  is  that  ;  she  never  looks  at  things 
cross-eyed,  an'  this  iz  perzactly  what  she  sez, 


48  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

sez  she,  '  Ov  course  I  don't  expects  him  ter 
love  me  at  the  start,  havin'  never  seed  me, 
but  zif  I  makes  myseff  lovabul,  an'  he  is  the 
gentleman  I  takes  'im  ter  be,  I'll  compel  'im 
ter  love  me  ;  and  zif  I'm  not  worthy  ov  his 
love  I  won't  deserve  hit,  nor  I  won't  expect 
hit.'" 

"Ah!  very  prettily  said.  Then  I  am  to 
understand  that  she  thoroughly  appreciates 
the  situation,  and  that  she  is  willing  ?  " 

' '  Yes,  she  understands,  an'  that  is  adzatly 
what  she  sed  agin  this  mornin'  when  I 
toled  her  good-bye.  Sez  I,  thes  ter  tease  er 
like,  'Abby,'sez  I,  what  shall  I  tell  your 
sweetheart  fer  you  ? '  An'  she  flushed  up 
redder  en'  any  rose,  an'  then  she  laffed  .  an' 
sez,  sez,  she,  '  Oh  !  I  orter  chawk  hit  on  yer 
back  an'  let  'im  read  hit  fer  himseff  :  Barkum 
is  willin'  er  waitin','  I  don't  perzactly  'mem- 
bers. Hit  waz  kinder  Greek  ter  me  an'  I 
couldn't  make  head  nor  tail  ov  hit,  but  I 
spoze  hit  is  some  ov  these  little  quips  she 
haz  picked  up  outen  some  ov  the  outlandish 
books  she's  bin  a  readin'.  " 

"Ah,  yes,  Barkis  is  willing  ;  that  is  Greek 
and  shows  your  daughter  gifted  with  a  fine 
sense  of  humor,  as  well  as  classical  erudition. 
Barkis  and  Peggoty  ;  two  fools  well  met, 
heigh-ho  !  why  not  ?  But  now,  Mr.  Hardie, 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  49 

to  return  to  '  bizness, '  when  do  you  propose 
to  lead  this  one  precious  ewe-lamb  of  yours 
to  the  sacrificial  altar  ? " 

"Nan?" 

"  I  mean,  when  do  you  wish  to  complete 
this  trade,  to  sign,  seal  and  deliver  the 
goods  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  see;  the  sooner  the  better. 
You're  bizzy  with  your  electioneering,  an'  '11 
want  the  spondulix  right  away,  an',  asides, 
the  Gardens  mout  call  the  Jedge  ter  taw,  an' 
I  wants  'im  ter  be  ready,  so  ye  kin  marry  at 
oncet,  an'  let  the  thing  go  on.  Ye  sed  ye'd 
be  bizzy  ter-day  er  I  'ould  say  go  over  at 
once,  an'  have  hit  over.  Thar's  no  yuse  a 
waitin'."  % 

"  But  the  lady,  is  she  quite  ready  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  Abby's  a  minit  man,  Abby  is, 
an'  yer'll  allers  find  her  reddy.  Zif  I  wuz 
ter  go  right  home  now  an'  say,  Abby,  we've 
got  ter  start  to  Jerryco  ter-night,  kin  ye  git 
reddy  ?  she'd  say,  yes  ;  an'  call  Nanny  an'  go 
ter  packin',  an'  I  lay  that  afore  I  could  go 
an'  git  the  tickets,  she'd  hev  her  trunk  out 
on  the  sidewalk  a  settin'  on  hit  a  waitin'  fer 
the  waggin.  I  tells  yer  what,  young  man, 
you've  got  ter  keep  yer  socks  on  zif  you  keep 
up  with  Abby.  So  thes  say  when  an'  she'll  be 
reddy,  armed  au'  equipt  as  the  law  directs." 


50  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

' '  Very  well  ;  as  you  say,  this  is  strictly  a 
matter  of  business,  and  I  can  see  no  good 
reason  for  delay.  I  shall  not  get  back  from 
Red  Oak  until  late  in  the  evening,  or  I  would 
suggest  eight  o'clock  to-night.  I  shall  have 
to  speak  at  Philippi  to-morrow  at  one  P.  M., 
but  I  can  possibly  find  time  in  the  morning 
to  attend  to  the  matter.  It  will  take  but  a 
few  moments,  and  by  driving  hard  I  can 
make  the  time  up.  Will  you  engage  to  have 
her  ready  by,  say  10:30,  in  the  morning  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I'll  fix  ever'thing.  She  kin  git 
her  trix  ready  ter-night,  an'  I'll  get  the 
lisens,  an'  see  the  passin'.  Ye  kin  marry  at 
the  house." 

"  Yes,  that  will  save  time." 

"  Tu-by-shore,  an'  asides,  she  hain't  much 
ov  a  han'  fer  show,  an'  'ould  druther  have  a 
privit  weddin'  anyhow  ;  only  ye  kin  fetch 
as  many  ov  yer  friends  as  wants  ter  come  ; 
they'll  all  be  welcome,  an'  I  reckon  they'll 
find  a  plate  an'  a  glass  full  an'  a  waitin'  fer 
'em." 

"Thanks,  you  are  very  good.  You  will 
present  my  devoirs  to  your  daughter?  or 
perhaps  I  had  best  write  her  a  note ;  it 
would  be  more  like  '  bizness ' ;  will  you  kindly 
carry  it  ? " 

"Tu-by-shore    I    will,   an    a    bunch     of 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


hollyhocks,  or  poppies,  zif  you  want  to  send 
a  posy." 

"No,  thank  you;  had  I  anticipated  this 
interesting  dilemma,  I  should  have  certainly 
provided  a  basket  of  poppies  suited  to  the 
emergency,  but  never  even  dreaming  of  the 
surprising  stroke  of  'bizness'  I  will  have 
to  rely  upon  the  lady's  good  grace  to  excuse 
any  laches  in  sentiment. " 

"Yes,  she'll  understand." 

The  young  man  turned  to  his  table  and 
hastily  wrote  an  ungracious  note,  and  then, 
without  reading  or  revision,  he  addressed 
and  handed  it  to  her  father. 

"  Will  you  kindly  hand  this  to  Miss 
Hardie,  with  my  most  dutiful  regards  ? 
And  now  I  see,"  consulting  his  watch,  "I 
haven't  a  moment  more  to  lose  ;  I  must 
leave  you  and  my  father  to  adjust  the 
details  of  the  settlement.  I  shall  be 
promptly  on  hand  in  the  morning  to  fulfill 
my  part  of  the  contract.  I  shall  come  at 
10:30,  sharp,  which  will  give  me  thirty 
minutes  in  which  to  w,oo,  win  and  wed  your 
daughter,"  and  seizing  his  hat  he  made  a 
bolt  for  the  door,  when  his  father  gently 
detained  him. 

"One  moment,  my  son,"  rising  up  and 
drawing  him  toward  the  door  of  the  private 


52  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

consultation  room,  or  confessional,  as  the 
lawyers  irreverently  call  it.  "Let  me  see 
you  in  here  a  moment  before  this  unholy 
compact  is  irrevocably  sealed." 

"  I  have  but  a  moment ;  please  speak  quick- 
ly, for  I  have  already  decided,"  the  son 
answered,  closing  the  door  behind  him  and 
facing  his  father. 

"  Can  you  do  this  thing,  David  ?  Can  you 
make  this  creature  your  wife  ?  this  woman 
the  mother  of  your  children  ?  " 

"  I  can  marry  her  at  least,  and  that  is  all 
the  old  Shylock  stipulates  for.  I  can  mum- 
ble the  ceremony  of  marriage,  but  she  will 
never  be  wife  of  mine  ;  she  will  be  mother 
of  no  child  of  mine  ;  I  should  expect  a 
hybrid  monstrosity  ;  an  idiot  with  a  tail,  or 
a  gorilla  without  one.  No,  sir,  you  need 
not  be  uneasy  for  the  species  of  your  descend- 
ants through  me.  There  will  be  none  by 
this  old  hound's  daughter." 

"But,  David,  this  is  monstrous,  brutal! 
The  woman  has  rights." 

"  And  I,"  almost  fiercely,  "  shall  give  her 
the  freest  latitude  in  which  to  exercise  them. 
I  shall  give  her  my  name  and  she  may  gild 
it  in  brazen  letters  on  her  coach  and  drive 
through  Trinity  Church  itself,  for  all  I  care  ; 
but  that  is  all  I  shall  give." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  53 

' '  But  if  she  is  not  so  repulsive  as  we 
think  ;  if  she  turns  out  to  be  worthy ? " 

"Then  that  puts  the  onus  of  infamy  upon 
me  ;  if  she  is  worthy  to  be  my  wife,  I  am 
utterly  unworthy  of  her,  and  should  be 
ashamed  to  ever  stand  in  her  presence.  If 
she  is  what  I  expect  her  to  be  I  shall  despise 
her,  but  if  she  is  anything  better  she  must 
despise  me,  and  in  either  case,  I  can  have 
nothing  to  do  with  her.  I  shall  marry  her 
to-morrow,  and  then  I  shall  hurry  away  and 
care  not  to  ever  see  her  again  in  the  world. 
You  can  finish  your  business  with  the  old 
man,  and  I  shall  be  promptly  on  hand, "  and 
pulling  his  hat  savagely  down  over  his  ears, 
as  if  to  hush  all  further  cavil,  he  turned 
from  the  room  and  dashed  away. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHANCE,    DESTINY   OR  PROVIDENCE  ;   WHICH  ? 

"WELL,  Abby  ;  we've  got  the  thing  fixed 
at  last,  an'  ever'thing  is  squegee,  an'  you're 
ter  be  married  ter-morrer  mornin'  at  haff 
arter  ten  o'clock,  ter  the  secund,"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  with  a  little  triumph,  as  his 


54  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

daughter  met  him  in  the  hall,  on  his  return 
from  the  bank. 

"To-morrow?  so  soon!  That  is  impos- 
sible," protested  the  young  lady  in  conster- 
nation. "  The  haste  is  unseemly  ;  really  in- 
decent." 

"  No,  hit's  not ;  you  thest  hold  your  tater, 
an'  let  me  'splain.  Thar's  no  yuse  a  waitin' 
nor  no  yuse  a  fixin.'  Hit's  only  a  privit 
weddin',  with  nobody  yere  'septin'  the  f  ambly, 
an'  then  hit's  all  right.  Everybody  iz  willin' 
an'  hit's  nobody  else's  bizness.  You've  got 
plenty  ov  clothes  good  anuff .  David  '11  only 
drap  in  fer  half  a  hour  an'  then  he'll  hav' 
ter  make  tracks  ter  the  speakin'.  They 
speaks  at  Philippi  ter-morrer  an'  he'll  have 
ter  whoop  it  up,  ter  be  thar  in  time.  Ye  mus- 
sent  spect  much  courtin'  an'  rose-buddin'  an' 
hunnying,  an'  sich  like,  'til  arter  the  'lec- 
tion. Tom  Lawson  'ill  gin  'im  as  much  az 
he  can  tote  without  'im  daily-diddling  with 
you.  I  knows,  though,  that  you  won't  want 
ter  keep  'im  f  rum  hiz  work,  you're  too  smart 
a  gurrill  fer  that.  Thar'll  be  time  anuff 
fer  pea-vinin'  arter  we  'lect  'im  ter  Con- 
gress. You're  ter  be  married  at  ten,  an' 
yer  had  better  tell  Sealy  ter  fix  up  a  little 
snack  ov  cakes  an'  persarves  an'  pies  an' 
things,  with  a  few  bottles  ov  champain,  ter 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  55 

drink  yer  health  in.  Yer  knows  how  ter  fix 
hit  ?  The  Jedge  'ill  be  here  an'  I  'spects  his 
darter  'ill  come  too,  an'  as  many  more  as 
they  can  fetch.  Zif  yer  need  any  flowers 
an'  sich  like,  thest  send  f er  Mr.  Galceran  an' 
have  'im  ter  fix  'em,  tell  'im  thest  ter  spread 
heseff ,  I  don't  care  a  ding  if  it  cost  a  thousan' 
dollars.  I  '11  see  Mr.  Davenport  an'  have 
'im  ter  come  over  an'  tie  the  knot  for  you. 
David  is  gone  ter  the  speakin'  at  Red  Oak  an' 
won't  be  back  tell  late  ter-night,  an'  then 
he  'ill  hev  ter  pole  right  back  in  the  mornin' 
to  meet  Lawson  at  Philippi.  But  hit's  all 
fixed,  hunny,  an'  you  need'n  look  so  jubus  ; 
thar'l  be  no  shenanygin  about  hit.  He  toled 
me  ter  git  the  license  an'  ter  have  you  ready. 
He  toled  me  ter  give  you  his  devours,  with 
his  best  love,  an'  toled  me  ter  hand  you  this 
letter,  an'  he'd  a  sent  you  a  bunch  ov  holly- 
hawks  an'  sich  like,  only  he  sed  he  didn't 
know  that  he  would  a  needed  'em  so  soon ; 
so  come,  darling,  you  mussent  go  ter  crying 
now.  Tut,  tut  !  hunny,  don't  cry.  Hit's 
not  a  goin'  ter  hurt  you.  Sho  !  yer  needn't 
mine  hit  at  all.  Thar  hain't  a  nether  gurrill 
in  all  the  town  but  wouldn't  give  their  eye- 
teeth  ter  be  in  yer  place.  Now,  now  !  don't 
cry,  but  take  the  letter  an'  run  up  ter  your 
own  room  an'  read  hit  ter  yerself." 


56  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

The  young  lady,  with  a  sorrowing  pertur- 
bation, took  the  letter  and  hurried  into  the 
secrecy  of  her  own  chamber,  as  much  to 
hide  the  disquieting  fears  and  to  wipe  away 
the  unbidden  tears,  as  to  read  the  message 
itself. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  by  her  window, 
absently  holding  the  letter  in  her  hand,  lost 
in  a  strange  daze,  and  then  shaking  off  the 
feeling  she  broke  the  seal  and  read  : 

"  Miss  HABDIE  :  Your  father,  presumably  with  your 
approbation,  has  told  me  that  you  two  have  thoroughly 
discussed  the  matter  that  so  intimately  concerns  us  both, 
and  that  you  are  familiar  with,  and  appreciate,  all  its 
phases.  Without  commenting  upon  the  propriety  of  the 
methods  or  the  wisdom  of  the  step,  I  have  only  a  hurried 
moment  in  which  to  tell  you  that,  to  relieve  the  sore  dis- 
traint of  my  father,  I  have — not  without  serious  misgivings 
as  to  the  future,  but  with  an  honest  purpose  to  do  my  duty 
— consented  to  the  extraordinary  proposal  he  made,  and 
will — Deo  volente — be  with  you  to-morrow  at  10:30  A.  M.,  to 
speak  before  the  holy  man  of  God  the  vows  of  love  and  re- 
gard you  may  hardly  expect  me  to  feel.  When  I  come  to 
know  you  I  may  possible  learn  to  love  you  ;  until  then,  it 
would  be  an  unmanly  hypocrisy  in  me  to  affect  any  other 
than  a  respectful  regard. 

"  Very  truly, 

"  DAVID  R.  WINSTON." 

"Oh,  this  is  hard,  this  is  cruel!"  she 
cried,  and  the  tears  came  afresh;  and  then, 
all  unconscious  of  the  volition,  she  sank 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  57 

upon  her  knees,  and  pressing  her  forehead 
against  the  window  she  prayed  : 

"Oh,  God  !  the  Father  of  the  motherless 
and  the  Counsellor  of  the  friendless,  teach 
me  the  way  I  should  go,  the  thing  I 
should  do.  Oh,  mother  !  my  sainted  mother, 
if  it  be  possible  for  thee  to  hear  me,  come 
to  me  now  and  help  me  to  decide.  Breathe 
in  my  soul  the  words  I  should  speak,  and 
move  me  to  do  that  which  is  best  to  be 
done." 

For  nearly  five  minutes  she  knelt  thus, 
helplessly  praying  for  light  and  for  guidance, 
but  no  divine  message  came ;  no  saintly 
whisper  of  duty ;  and  then  she  arose,  de- 
spairingly, perplexed  as  ever ;  but  casting 
her  eyes  around,  as  if  in  a  further  dim 
groping  in  the  dark  for  an  oracle.  By 
chance — or  was  it  by  fate  ? — her  glance  fell 
upon  her  Bible,  the  precious  book  that  had 
been  her  mother's,  and,  with  a  little  gasp, 
she  seized  the  book. 

"Ah!  it  is  written.  I  shall  find  my 
duty  here,"  she  cried,  and  with  that  intui- 
tive reaching  out  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
unknown,  which,  unconsciously  to  us  all, 
guides  every  human  hand,  she  opened  and 
read  : 

"  'And  when  the  servants  of  David  were 


58  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

come  to  Abigail  to  Carmel,  they  spake  unto 
her  saying,  David  sent  us  unto  thee  to  take 
thee  to  him  to  wife.  And  she  arose  and 
bowed  herself  on  her  face  to  the  earth, 
and  said  :  Behold,  let  thy  handmaid  be  a 
servant  to  wash  the  feet  of  the  servants  of 
my  lord.  And  Abigail  hastened  and  arose, 
and  rode  upon  an  ass,  with  five  damsels  of 
hers  that  went  after  her.  And  she  went 
after  the  messengers  of  David  and  became 
his  wife.'" 

"I  wonder,"  she  murmured,  as  she  fin- 
ished reading  it  over  for  the  third  time.  "  I 
wonder  if  this  can  be  a  revelation,  or  is  it 
but  chance — chance — coincidence,  an  acci- 
dental grouping  of  words  and  letters — 
David  and  Abigail, — Ah,  no,  this  is  more 
than  chance,  this  is  a  divination  and  I  shall 
accept  it  as  the  ordination  of  my  destiny," 
and  carefully  reading  it  over  again,  syllable 
by  syllable  and  word  by  word,  she  rever- 
ently closed  the  volume  and  turned  to  her 
letter. 

"Ah!"  she  said,  after  reading  it  over 
once  more,  "it  is  not  really  cruel,  and  it 
may  be  kind.  It  is  frank  and  honest,  and 
that  is  always  the  best.  It  would  have  been 
so  easy  for  him  to  have  written  flattering 
words  and  deceived  me  with  heartless  pre- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  59 

tensions.  I  ought  to  thank  him  for  his 
candor.  And  I  do  thank  him;  between  us 
there  should  be  no  deceit.  I  should  know 
that  he  cannot  love  me  now,  for  he  has 
never  seen  me;  he  would  not  even  recognize 
me  were  we  to  chance  to  meet  on  the  street. 
Ah,  me  !  I  wonder  if  he  wonders  how  I  look  ? 
I  hope  he  thinks  me  ugly,  I  should  so  like 
to  surprise  him,  he  is  so  handsome  himself," 
and  fully  conscious  of  a  rare  womanly 
beauty  in  herself,  of  manner,  of  figure,  and 
of  face,  she  cast  an  admiring  glance  at  her 
own  lovely  self  in  the  mirror.  "Ah  !"  she 
went  on,  smiling  approval  at  the  radiant 
reflection,  "  Ah,  David  and  Abigail,  I  must 
study  the  story  of  their  lives  and  see  if 
they  were  happy.  What  wonderful  stories 
are  to  be  found  in  the  Bible,  and  how  much 
like  a  Biblical  story  is  the  beginning  of 
this,  for  David  did  not  court  Abigail,  he 
simply  sent  his  servants  for  her  to  Carmel. 
And  what  is  it  he  says  ?  the  new  David,  my 
David  ?  Ah  !  here  it  is, "  referring  to  the 
letter  once  again.  "  '  When  I  come  to  know 
you  I  may  possibly  learn  to  love  you.' 
Oh,  what  a  sweet  possibility,  and,  oh,  how 
I  shall  strive  to  teach  him!  I  wish  he  had 
written  nothing  else  but  this,  no  other 
sentence,  no  other  line.  But  these  shall  be 


60  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

all  I  shall  remember,  '  I  may  learn  to  love 
you.'  To  love  you — ah  !  to  love  you, — to 
love  you!  Ah!  that  is  enough,  a  hundred 
pages  could  not  have  added  to  its  fullness  ; 
a  poem  in  one  line,  a  whole  world  of  happy 
possibilities  epitomized  into  one  little 
'when."  And  cooingly  repeating,  "David 
and  Abigail ;  to  love  you — to  love  you, " 
she  tenderly  folded  it  away  to  hide  it  in 
the  most  sacred  of  her  sacred  repositories. 

And  then,  when  she  had  locked  her  treas- 
ure away,  there  came  a  wish  to  answer 
it,  a  desire  to  say  something  on  her 
own  part,  and  in  her  own  behalf ;  to 
let  him  feel,  or  at  least  know,  that 
cold,  hard,  and  mercenary  as  this  most 
extraordinary  proceeding  might  seem  to 
others,  she,  at  least,  was  guiltless  of  a 
single  sordid  thought  ;  that  she  could  hope 
to  find  in  it  all  a  something  higher,  purer, 
and  sweeter  than  any  suggestion  of  worldly 
gain,  or  of  worldly  ambition. 

And  thus  moved  she  wrote  : 

"  MY  DEAR  MK.  WIXSTOX  :  Your  note  of  this  instant 
was  handed  to  me  by  my  father,  and  though  no  answer 
may  be  expected,  I  find  myself  constrained  by  the  wish  to 
write.  I  cannot  tell  you  the  pain  and  humiliation  its 
perusal  cost  me  at  first,  but  after  a  moment's  reflection  I 
realized  my  unhappy  position  ;  and,  while  shrinking  from 
your  coldness,  I  must  yet  thank  you  for  your  candor.  I 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  61 

should  regret  to  know  that  any  distraint  on  the  part  of  your 
father,  or  constraint  on  the  part  of  my  own,  should  impel 
you  to  take  a  step  so  momentous.  If  there  really  be  such, 
I  beg  you  to  consider  this  matter  ended  at  once,  as  I  cannot 
become  a  party  to  such  a  sin  against  an  ordinance  so  sacred. 
If,  however,  for  other  considerations  (mercenary,  if  you 
please)  you  are  willing  to  place  the  honor  of  your  name  and 
the  happiness  of  your  life  in  my  keeping,  it  shall  be  the 
proudest  aim  of  my  life  to  maintain  inviolate  the  one,  and 
its  sweetest  endeavor  to  perfect  the  other.  I  shall  be  ready 
to  meet  you  to-morrow  and  very  happy  to  welcome  you, 
but  I  shall  not  despise  you  if  you  do  not  come.  If  you 
should  come,  may  I  venture  to  request  the  presence  of  your 
sister,  Miss  Winston  ?  I  should  wish  so  much  to  know 
her.  I  should  write  direct  to  her  myself  but  am  uncertain 
of  her  grace  ;  and  then,  if  I  am  really  to  be  your  wife,  I 
must  prefer  that  whatever  of  gladness,  of  pleasurable  asso- 
ciations the  future  holds  in  store  for  me,  should  come  all 
through  you. 

"  With  feeling  quite  the  reverse  of  cold  regard,  I  must  sub- 
scribe myself,  and  shall  ever  remain,  your  sincere  friend  and 
well-wisher, 

"  GBACE  A.  HARDIE. 

"  October  20th." 

Having  carefully  enveloped  and  sealed  it, 
she  carried  it  down  to  dispatch  it. 

"  Here,  Sam,  is  a  letter  for  Mr.  Winston, 
the  young  lawyer.  I  wish  you  to  take  it 
yourself,  to  be  sure  of  its  safe  delivery. 
Take  it  to  his  office  and  leave  it  with  his 
man.  You  know  the  place,  124  Winston 
Street?" 

"Yes'm,  I  knows." 


62  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Very  well.  Here  is  a  dollar  for  his 
man.  Tell  him  to  be  sure  and  hand  the  let- 
ter to  his  master  the  very  first  thing  he  does 
after  he  comes." 

"Yes'm,"  and  off  posted  Sam,  while 
she  turned  to  her  father. 

"Well,  Abby,  what's  he  say  ?"  asked  the 
old  man,  in  anxious  sympathy  with  the 
thoughtful  shade  on  his  daughter's  brow. 

"He  says  but  little.  A  simple  business 
letter  ;  only,  father,  there  is  one  expression 
which  troubles  me.  "He  speaks  of  the  dis- 
traint of  his  father,  as  if  by  some  secret 
power,  or  unfair  advantage  you  had  over 
him,  you  are  compelling  him  to  this  step. 
Is  this  so,  father  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  hunny,  what  it  iz  you 
means  by  destraints,  'less'en  it's  that  the  ole 
Jedge  iz  busted,  which  he  iz  for  a  fac'  ;  but 
I  didn't  bust  'im  an'  I  holes  no  secret  power 
over  'im." 

"And  it  is  to  get  you  to  help  his  father 
that  his  son  agrees  to  marry  me  ? " 

"Well — er — yes.  When yer  comes  ter  bile 
hit  down,  that's  about  the  size  ov  it.  Hit's 
thest  as  I  tole  ye,  yisterdy,  only  a  little 
more  so  ;  wusser,  I  means.  You  sees  the 
Jedge,  asides  the  tuther  things  he  owes,  was 
guardeen  for  the  Garden  gurrill,  Tom's  wife, 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  63 

an'  he  has  spent  all  her  money  an'  now  he's 
got  ter  anty  up,  he  can't  raise  the  stake." 

"  But  can't  you  help  him  without  this 
—this  bargain  of — of  me  ?  " 

"  Well — er — yes,  I  'spoze  I  kin.  I  can  thes 
give  'im  the  money,  make  'im  a  Christmus 
present  ov  hit,  but  that  wouldn't  be  bizness. 
I'd  be  a  fool  ter  off  er  hit  an'  he'd  be  a  dinged 
rogue  ter  take  hit ;  but  he  ain't  that  sort  ov  a 
man,  he's  a  honerable  man,  the  Jedge  is,  I 
don't  care  if  he  did  slip  up  an'  busted.  An' 
so  is  his  son  David,  he's  the  honerablest  ov 
the  two,  an'  they  both  iz  honerable.  An' 
asides  that,  I  hain't  no  fool  nuther.  So  the 
bestest  way  for  us  all  ter  do  is  ter  thest 
hitch  you  two  young  colts  together  an' 
then  hit  will  all  be  in  the  fambly.  An' 
he  sees  it  too,  David  do,  though  he  kicked 
like  a  mule  in  a  yaller-jackit's  nest  at  fust. 
You  see,  Abby,  they's  a  big  fambly,  the 
Winstons  be,  the  biggest  an'  the  grandest  in 
all  creation — regular  blue-bluds  away  back 
yonder  from  ole  Ferginny  ;  the  Pokerhun- 
ters,  an'  the  Fairfaxes,  an'  the  Marthy 
Washingtons  an'  all  the  tuther  big  bugs  as 
we  read  about,  an'  they's  monstus  proud  ov 
thar  breed,  an'  it  liked  ter  sallivated  'im, 
the  idee  ov  marryin'  you,  one  ov  the  pegbot- 
toms.  They's  silk-sowed  pumpsoles,  they  is, 


64  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

an  we'uns  is  only  yaller  pegbottoms.  They 
sort,  yer  know,  kinder  looks  down  on  our 
sort." 

"Ah!  yes,  I  know.  But  have  they  just 
cause  ?  Tell  me,  father,  the  truth,  is  there 
any  reason  why  I,  as  your  child,  should  be 
despised  ?  Ip  there  any  reproach  upon  your 
name,  or  life,  or  character,  or  upon  my 
mother's,  that  would  cause  David  Winston 
to  blush  to  own  me  as  his  wife  ?  If  so,  tell 
me  now  that  the  pain  of  learning  may  be 
spared  me  hereafter,  when  it  may  be  too 
late." 

"  No,  Abby,  thar's  nuthin'  that  no  'onnest 
man  orter  be  'shamed  ov,  'cept  in  that  I  waz 
homed  a  poor  man  an  had  ter  wiggle  my 
way  up  from  the  bottom  ;  I  don't  know  as  I 
ever  done  a  right  real  low  down  thing  in  my 
life.  I  never  hurt  any  man,  nor  'umman 
nuther  ;  I  never  cheated  even  a  nigger 
outen  a  picayune  ;  I've  made  money,  that's 
a  fac',  thes  oodles  ov  it,  but  if  I  ever  toted 
a  dishonest  dollar  in  my  pockit,  I  hopes  ter 
goodness  that  hit  will  take  the  dry  rot  an' 
that  all  the  rest  'ill  catch  it  an'  crumble 
away  into  devil's-snuff .  Hit's  true,  too,  that 
I  yused  ter  bet  a  little  on  the  hoss-races,  but  I 
allers  won,  an'  when  I  belt  a  good  hand  in  a 
game  ov  poker  I  warn't  easily  bluffed,  but  I 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  65 

never  cheated,  uor  renigged  in  my  life.  An' 
as  fer  your  mammy,  hunny,  God  bless  her 
sweet  heart,  thar'wurn't  a  purer  nor  a  truer, 
nor  a  better  'umman  in  all  the  old  thirteen 
states  than  waz  your  mammy.  Yes,  nor  a 
truer  lady,  I  don't  care  zif  she  waz  borned 
in  a  log  cabbin  an'  had  ter  ride  a  mule  ter 
mill  when  she  waz  a  gurrill.  No,  Grace, 
thar  hain't  enny  thing  wrong  about  you, 
an'  you  needn't  be  afeered  ter  face  a  camp- 
meetin',  in  the  broadest  daylight  that  ever 
shined." 

The  girl,  with  a  flush  of  genuine  pride, 
kissed  her  father. 

"There,"  she  said,  "you  have  made  me 
very  happy  ;  happy  and  proud,  and  there 
can  be  no  derogation  to  him,  nor  his  family 
in  marrying  me  ? " 

"No  !  in  course  thar  can't.  Hit  'ill  be  the 
makin'  ov  'im  and  the  savin'  ov  them.  But 
as  I  said  afore,  hit  wuz  a  bitter  pill  an'  it 
made  'em  gag  ;  thay  is  so  proud,  you  know, 
an  looks  on  us  pegbottoms  sorter  like  we 
looks  on  a  passel  ov  free-niggers.  But 
David  is  a  chap  ov  mighty  good  sense,  an' 
has  plenty  ov  grit,  an'  he  soon  seed  as  how 
hit  was  no  yuse  ter  kick  again  the  double- 
tree. The  ole  Jedge  was  kerflumixed  an' 

that  fixed  'im." 
5 


66  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  I  am  very  sorry." 

"No,  I  don't  know  as  it  much  matters. 
When  big  folks  makes  ducks  an'  drakes  -ov 
thar  money,  thay  must  expect  thay  children 
ter  have  ter  paddle  in  the  mud  ter  fine  the 
aiges.  But,  now,  darlin',  I've  got  ter  be  a 
stirrin'  an'  you'd  a -better  be  beginning  ter 
fixin'  up  your  weddin'  trix,  you  hain't  got 
much  time  ter  fix  in,  but  I  wants  you  ter 
be  thest  as  fine  az  a  queen.  I'll  sen'  Mr. 
Snooks  over  ter  see  'bout  fixin'  the  furni- 
ture, an'  I'll  send  Galceran,  an'  you  kin  tell 
'im  how  you  wants  the  flowers.  Stuffragen 
will  see  'bout  the  cakes  an'  Sealy  can  baste 
the  meats,  and  when  Sam  gits  back  tell  'im 
ter  see  'bout  fixin'  up  the  niggers.  I  wants 
ever'thing  ter  be  thest  as  fine  as  if  hit  was 
the  guvner's  darter  as  was  a  gwine  ter  be 
married."  And  tenderly  kissing  his  daugh- 
ter good-bye  the  old  man  hurried  away 
to  complete  the  disenthrallment  of  Judge 
Winston,  from  the  danger  that  so  perilously 
threatened  him,  from  his  quondam  ward. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening,  before  David 
Winston  returned  to  his  office  and  then 
the  tracing  by  a  slender  thread,  winding 
through  a  labyrinth  of  uncertain  records, 
an  uncertain  paragraph  made  in  an  un- 
certain speech  by  his  adversary  on  an  un- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  67 


certain  occasion,  occupied  all  his  thoughts 
until  long  after  midnight,  and  then,  utterly 
exhausted  by  the  long  day's  work  he  went 
to  bed,  and  it  was  not  until  ten  o'clock  the 
next  morning,  after  he  had  washed  the 
heavy  drowsiness  from  his  eyes,  that  he 
found  Miss  Hardie's  letter,  not  in  his  office, 
but  lying  on  his  dressing-case,  where  it  had 
been  slyly  placed  but  the  moment  before,  by 
the  careful  hand  of  Jake,  who  while  still 
jingling  the  young  lady's  gratuity  in  his 
pocket  had  entirely  forgotten  to  deliver  it 
the  evening  before. 

"  Ah  !  what  is  this  ?  '  David  R.  Winston, 
Esq.,  En  Ville,'"  reading  the  superscription. 
"  An  invitation  to  Mrs.  Bullwinkle's  fete 
musicale  ?  Ah  !  I  am  getting  too  old  for 
such  airy  dissipations,  charming  though 
they  always  must  be,"  he  continued,  toss- 
ing it  aside  unopened. 

"  Ziff  you  please,  Marse  David,  dat'san  'ote 
wat  de  Hardie  nigger  fetched.  He  sed  hit 
waz  frum  hiz  young  mistus,  old  Hardie's 
gal,"  cautioned  Jake. 

"  Oh  !  the  devil  !  when  did  he  bring  it  ? " 
retouching  it  with  a  shiver  of  disgust. 

"  Thes  now,  sah  !  Thes  dis  berry  minit, 
an'  he  waz  in  a  monstus  big  hurry,  an'  toled 
me  ter  wake  you  up  an'  give  hit  ter  you 


68  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

rite  away.  I  wuz  thes  a  fixin'  ter  ban'  it  ter 
you,  soon's  yer  got  dressed." 

The  young  man  opened,  and  half  cu- 
riously, half  critically,  read  Miss  Hardie's 
letter. 

"  Ah  !  this  is  a  fairly  written  letter  ;  the 
chirography  is  beautiful,  thanks  to  the 
cleverness  of  her  amanuensis.  What  a 
clever  writer  he — or  maybe  it's  a  she — must 
be.  I  wonder  if  he,  or  she,  is  to  be  thrown  in 
with  the  gold  and  negroes  ?  Let  me  see.  A 
pound  of  gold  for  every  pound  of  girl,  and  a 
nigger  or  two  for  every  pound  of  each. 
What  a  magnificent  dower,  and  what  a  fort- 
unate dog  I  am  !  Jake  !  do  you  know  that 
I  am  to  be  married  to-day  ? " 

Jake  tried  to  look  wise,  but  the  astonished 
whites  of  his  eyes  betrayed  him. 

"  Yes,  sah,  I  knowed  hit.  But  iz  yer,  fer  a 
fac'?" 

"No  !  not  for  a  fact,  but  for  a  lie  ;  a 
miserable,  debasing,  mercenary  lie.  Yes  :  I 
am  to  be  married  at  10:30  sharp,  and  it's  ten 
now.  I  haven't  even  time  for  breakfast. 
You  should  have  waked  me  sooner.  Here  ; 
you  had  better  get  me  another  coat,  and  a 
white  vest ;  my  best  dress-suit — a  man 
should  be  decently  dressed  even  though  he 
is  to  be  hanged.  But,  no  ;  never  mind,  I 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  69 


would  have  to  shave,  and  I  haven't  time  for 
that ;  this  will  have  to  do  to  mount  the  block 
in.  Jake  !  were  you  ever  sold  ? " 

"Oh,  no,  sah  ;  I  wuz  borned  an'  raised 
by  ole  marster.  I'm  a  thoroughbred  Wins- 
ton. Your  mammy,  she  had  me." 

"  Ah  !  happy  Jake,  never  to  have  been 
sold  and  never  to  have  felt  the  shame  of  it  ! 
Here,  tie  my  cravat.  Do  you  know  that  I 
have  been  sold  ? " 

"Oh  !  no,  sah  !     Izyer  ?" 

"Yes,  sold.  Old  Israel  Hardie  has 
bought  me.  You  know  old  Hardie  ?  " 

"Now,  Marse  Dave,  yer  is  thes  a  pro- 
jeckin'  wid  me  ?  Wy  !  all  we  niggers  think 
we  seffs  above  dat  set.  Dey's  buckra  frum 
de  jump  go." 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  it  is  true,  nevertheless. 
Ah  ! 

"  'True,  tis  pity,  and  pity  'tis  'tis  true  !  ' 

He  has  bought  me  for  his  daughter." 

"Now,  Marse  Dave." 

"Yes  ;  indeed  it  is  so." 

"  What  fur  she  wants  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  she  wants  me  for  an  ornament. 
She's  tired  of  her  poodle  and  wants  me  for  a 
monkey.  To  drive  me  around  in  her  car- 
riage, to  take  me  to  balls  and  to  picnics, 


70  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

and  to  exhibit  me  generally,  just  to  let  folks 
see  what  a  fool  money  can  make  of  an  ill- 
born  woman,  and  what  a  hound  it  can  make 
of  an  impecunious  man.  You  have  heard 
the  story,  Jake,  of  the  apples  in  the  horse 
pond?" 

"Yes,  sah."  Jake  was  wondrous  wise 
and  had  heard  everything  that  his  young 
master  could  possibly  suggest. 

"Well,  she  wants  me  for  her  apple,  to 
give  credit  to  the  puddle. " 

"Well,  well,  sah  ;  Marse  David,  zif  ye 
didn't  look  so  sober — 

"  You  would  think  me  drunk  ?  " 

"No,  sah  ;  but  I'd  tink  dat  youze  thes  a 
foolin'  me." 

"No,  it  is  so,  Jake,  I  assure  you.  I  have 
been  sold,  and  paid  for." 

"  How  much  you  fotch  ?" 

"Oh,  a  fancy  price,  you  may  be  sure. 
Much  more  than  I  would  be  willing  to  give 
for  myself  now.  But  there,  that  will  do," 
as  Jake  finished  a  vigorous  brushing  of  his 
back  and  legs,  "hand  me  my  hat  and 
gloves,  and  tell  Dick  to  fetch  the  buggy 
around.  I  told  him  to  harness  Nip  and  Tuck 
as  we  will  have  hard  driving  to-day." 

Jake  hurried  away,  sorely  puzzled  to 
make  out.  his  master's  meaning—"  'spe- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  71 

cially  dat  apple  bizness," — while  the  young 
gentleman  drew  on  his  gloves  and  with  a 
sickly  smile  at  himself  in  the  mirror  he 
turned  from  the  room. 

"  She  asked  me  to  invite  my  sister.  Ah  !  I 
wonder  if  she  could  possibly  imagine  what 
a  humiliating  thing  it  is  she  asks  of  me  ! 
But  I  will  see  Gussie  and  tell  her  ;  I  will 
have  to  learn  to  face  my  degradation,  and  I 
had  as  well  begin  at  once.  Where  is  your 
mistress  ?  "  he  asked  of  her  maid,  as  he  met 
her  in  the  hall. 

"  She's  in  her  room,  sah,  thest  a  cuttin' 
up." 

"  Go  tell  her  to  please  come,  I  wish  to  see 
her  a  moment." 

"  Oh,  Gussie,  you  are  crying  !  Father 
has  told  you,  then  ?  "  he  asked,  as  his  sister 
came  in,  in  hysterical  sobs. . 

"  Oh,  my  brother  !  how  could  you  do  such 
a  miserable  thing  ? "  she  cried,  sinking  on  a 
chair. 

"You  must  not  cry,  Gussie,  I  could  not 
help  it.  A  hard  fate  has  forced  it  upon  us, 
for  it  is  for  you,  my  sister,  and  for  my 
father,  that  I  do  this  thing.  If  father  has 
told  you,  it  is  of  no  use  to  go  over  the 
wretched  story  again.  I  only  wanted  to  tell 
you  that  I  have  a  note  from  Miss  Hardie 


72  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

and  she  offers  her  compliments  to  you,  and 
would  be  glad  for  you  to  be  present.  Will 
you  go,  sister  ? " 

"If  it  was  to  your  funeral  I  might,  per- 
haps, find  heart  to  go,  but  not  to  this.  You 
should  not  ask  me." 

"Ah,  well!  I  am  sorry,  but  I  do  not 
blame  you  ;  only  you  must  not  be  too  hard 
on  me.  There  is  Dick  with  the  buggy,  and 
I  must  be  going  ;  I  am  already  late.  By- 
bye,"  and  stooping  and  tenderly  kissing  the 
weeping  face,  he  hurried  out  and  away. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    WE  D  D  I  N  G  . 

THE  great  Janus- faced  clock  in  the  Capitol 
tower  had  struck  the  half-hour,  and  the 
dainty  little  cuckoo  clock  on  the  drawing- 
room  mantle  had  verified  the  count,  while 
the  silent  fingers  of  the  tall,  old-fashioned, 
pendulum  clock  in  the  dining-room  were 
pointing  to  the  figures  10:30,  when  the 
spanking  team  of  David  Winston,  urged  to 
a  two-thirty  trot,  came  dashing  around  the 
corner,  and  in  an  instant  more  was  brought 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  73 

to  a  stand  before  the  high-arched  gate  of 
570,  Colbert  Avenue. 

Handing  the  reins  to  Dick,  the  belated 
groom  lightly  sprang  to  the  ground  and 
hurried  in,  with  a  lugubrious  look  on  his 
face,  as  if  it  was  into  a  dentist's  office  he 
was  plunging  to  have  an  excruciating  molar 
extracted.  All  things  were  ready,  and  a 
little  anxiously  waiting.  His  father  had 
preceded  him,  and  had  been  there  some 
time,  silently  sitting  in  a  confused  wonder 
at  the  surprising  magnificence  of  the  room. 
The  Eeverend  Mr.  Davenport,  in  canonical 
robes,  was  there,  complacently  solemn,  while 
the  old  gentleman,  effusive  in  politeness, 
was  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  positively 
fidgety  in  the  exuberance  of  expectancy. 

"Ah  !  thar  he  is  now  ;  fetch  'im  in,  Sam," 
he  exclaimed,  as  the  hurried  knock  on  the 
door  came  sounding  through  the  hall. 

Sam,  with  the-dignity  of  the  Queen's  Cham- 
berlain, responded  to  the  knock,  and  hardly 
before  the  echoes  of  the  alarm  had  died  from 
the  hall  the  door  was  opened  and  the  groom 
was  ushered  in. 

"  Ah-ha  !  thest  in  time  ter  the  secund. 
That's  bizness,"  cried  the  old  gentleman, 
fairly  crushing  his  fingers  in  the  spontaneity 
of  his  welcome. 


74  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  Thanks — ouche — ah  !  excuse  me,  I  was 
so  busy  last  night  that  I  overslept  myself, 
and  feared  that  I  should  have  to  apologize  for 
being  late,"  wrenching  his  aching  fingers 
from  the  friendly  grasp. 

"  No,  yu'ze  thest  in  time,  as  punctal  az  the 
bank  hitself,  an'  ever'thing  else  is  reddy 
cocked  an'  primed.  The  Jedge  is  yere  an' 
kin  tell  you  that  ever'thing  hez  been  set- 
tled, fair  an'  square  atwixt  us,  an'  I've  paid 
off  Tom's  wife,  ever'  blamed  cent  ov  it,  an' 
the  passin  is  yere  with  the  lisenzes,  an' 
Abby's  got  her  trix  on  an'  iz  a  waitin'.  Yer 
'ill  fine  her  in  her  little  drawin'-roorn  acrost 
thar  ;  Nanny  'ill  show  you,"  and  giving  the 
half-scared  young  man  a  shove,  that  nearly 
upset  his  equilibrium,  in  the  direction  of  his 
daughter's  boudoir,  and  motioning  Nanny 
to  conduct  him  to  the  bride  expectant,  he 
turned  to  his  factotum  :  "  Sam,  call  'em 
all  in  now  ;  thay  wants  ter  see  thay  young 
mistus  married." 

Sam  had  only  to  open  a  side  door,  when 
they  came  pouring  in  ;  such  a  rush,  of  black, 
slick-faced,  spread -mouthed,  smartly-dressed 
negroes  as  threatened  to  deluge  the  spacious 
room.  Sam,  however,  had  had  them  trained, 
and  decorously  they  took  their  places,  form- 
ing a  semicircle  around  the  little  dais  which 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  75 

had  been  raised,  and  over  which  hung  an 
enormous  bell  of  snowy  roses. 

The  notice  had  been  short,  but  everything 
had  been  arranged  in  graceful  as  well  as 
tasteful  completeness. 

"  Yere,  Miss  Grace,  I'ze  fetched  'im,"  said 
Nanny,  ushering  the  passive  groom  into  the 
radiant  presence  of  the  blushing  young  lady. 

Never  before,  in  all  his  life  had  young 
Winston  been  oppressed  with  such  a  humil- 
iating sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  such 
an  overwhelming  consciousness  of  moral 
meanness  and  moral  degradation,  as  he  did 
that  moment  when  he  stepped  into  the  sacred 
presence  of  the  woman  he  had  so  reviled. 
Too  much  abashed  to  look  once  in  the  lovely 
face,  he  had  only  time  to  note  the  queenly 
presence  and  lissome  grace  of  motion  with 
which  she  rose  to  meet  him.  With  an  awk- 
ward groping  he  offered  his  hand,  for- 
getting in  his  humiliating  aberration  to 
remove  his  stiff  riding  gauntlets. 

Gracious  as  a  queen  she  placed  her  own 
soft,  fair  Jiand  in  his.  The  gentle  touch 
recalled  him,  and  dropping  her  hand  he 
quickly  drew  off  the  impeding  glove. 

"I  fear  that  I  have  kept  you  waiting," 
he  apologized,  this  time  bowing  respectfully 
and  tenderly  reaching  for  her  hand. 


76  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir  !  Had  you  not  come,  at  all, 
I  should  not  have  been  greatly  disappointed. 
I  was  not  quite  certain  that  you  would 
come,"  she  answered,  and  he  had  to  wonder 
at  the  marvelous  sweetness  of  her  voice. 

"And  you  would  not  have  cared  ? " 

"  I  may  not  say  that  ;  but  I  could  not,  at 
least,  have  blamed  you." 

"No?  It  would  have  been  more  manly 
in  me  not  to  have  come.  But  I  must  ex- 
plain ;  I  did  not  read  your  letter  until  this 
morning  ;  not  twenty  minutes  ago,"  he  said, 
apologetically. 

"  And  had  you  received  it  in  time,  would 
it  have  changed  your  purpose  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  no.  My  purpose  is  not  so  easily 
changed.  I  fear  that  you  will  find  it  more 
obstinate  than  otherwise,  and  I  am  here  to 

consummate  the — the  tra 1  mean  the 

arrangement  agreed  upon  with  your  father. 
If  you  are  quite  ready,  and  will  pardon  my 
unseemly  hurry,  we.  will  proceed  at  once 
with  the  ceremony.  I  believe  that  I  ex- 
plained the  urgent  pressure  that  is  upon  my 
time  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  understand,  and  I  am  quite 
ready. " 

Drawing  her  hand  through  his  arm,  he 
led  her  in,  to  take  their  stand  under  the 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  77 

roses  and  to  kneel  on  the  velvet-cushioned 
dais. 

The  ceremony  was  the  beautiful  but 
solemn  one  prescribed  by  the  Episcopal 
liturgy,  and  it  proceeded  without  untoward 
incident,  until  the  minister  paused  and 
looked  to  the  groom  for  the  ring.  David 
looked  blank  and  stammered  something 
inaudible ;  Abigail  blushed,  more  rosy, 
more  lovely  than  ever,  and  an  awkward 
hitch  was  imminent ;  the  ring  had  been  for- 
gotten. Judge  Winston  realized  the  laches, 
and  was  the  first  to  act.  Slipping  a  heavy 
cameo  from  his  finger,  he  moved  to  offer  it, 
when  her  father,  with  a  sudden  dive  in  the 
capacious  pocket  of  his  breeches,  drew  out  a 
weather-beaten  buckskin  purse  : 

"  Hold  on — don't,  Jedge  ;  just  hole'  yer 
tater  a  minit,  passin !  I've  got  the  very 
trick,"  he  cried,  fishing  out  a  bit  of  faded 
blue  flannel,  the  unwinding  of  which 
brought  to  light  a  thin,  well-worn,  gold 
ring,  hardly  thicker  than  a  thread.  "  Yere, 
hunny ;  yere's  the  ring ;  hit  wuz  yer 
mammy's  weddin'  ring,  an'  I've  saved  hit 
fer  you.  Ware  it,  darlin',  an'  when  you 
gits  mad  with  David,  thes  look  on  hit  an' 
think  ov  her,  afore  you  begins  ter  scold." 

The  young  man   took    the  ring,  a  poor, 


78  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

miserable,  little  excuse  for  a  ring,  and  as  if 
impelled  by  a  magic  touch,  reverently  kissed 
it,  and  then  handed  it  to  the  minister  and 
the  ceremony  went  on,  all  the  more  impress- 
ive, perhaps,  because  of  this  little  interrup- 
tion. 

The  Judge  was  the  first  to  offer  congratu- 
lations. Wringing  his  son's  hand  in  a  kind 
of  contrite  enthusiasm,  he  murmured  : 

"May  the  good  God  bless  you,  my  son  ; 
bless  you  and  yours  ; "  and  then  drawing 
the  blushing  bride  to  his  breast,  he  kissed 
her.  "And  you,-  my  daughter,  my  heart 
blesses  you,  too  ;  may  His  love  keep  you  and 
bless  you  always." 

"Your  blessing  is  very  precious  to  me, 
sir,"  she  answered  sweetly,  and  then,  like 
an  Amazonian  charge,  the  negroes  made  a 
dash  upon  her  ;  first  her  good  old  nurse, 
Mammy  Lucy,  with  a  screech  that  startled 
the  Judge,  bounded  forward,  and  pounced 
upon  her.  Catching  her  in  her  arms,  she 
commenced  a  frantic  pounding  over  the 
shoulders,  crying  between  sobs  : 

"  Oh,  my  darlin'  young  mistus :  my 
hunny  chile  ;  my  precious  baby,  wat  I'ze 
suckled  myseff  a  millyun  times,  an'  rocked 
you  ter  sleep  a  hundred  more ;  oh,  you'ze 
de  sweetest,  bestest,  an'  purtiest  young  mis- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  79 

tus  as  wuz  never  married  befoh  in  all  my 
born  days  !  Oh,  my  chile,  I'ze  so  glad  dat 
I'ze  libbed  ter  see  dis  day  ! " 

uGo  'long,  Maum  Lucy,  an  quit  yer  pro- 
gicken,  an'  giff  me  a  chance.  Do'an  yer  see 
dat  yer'ze  a  knockin'  de  breff  outen  de  chile, 
an  a  spilein'  all  de  laces  an'  de  ribbons  on 
her  buzzom,  wid  yer  slobberin'  ?  ."  interrupted 
Aunt  Sealy ;  tearing  the  other  aside,  and 
laying  a  still  more  boisterous  affection  upon 
the  victim.  "Yu'ze  my  chile,  too,  hain't 
yer,  hunny  ? " 

And  then  the  others,  one  by  one,  with  a 
tear  and  a  blessing  for  the  darling  "young 
mistus  ; "  interrupted  at  last,  by  the 
master  : 

"  Come,  folkses,  we  all  know  that  David 
hes  ter  go  ;  his  time's  nearly  up,  now,  but  I 
reckon  that  we'll  have  time  ter  eat  a  snack, 
an'  ter  drink  a  health  to  the  young  ones  ;  so 
come  rite  along  ter  the  dining-room,  an' 
let's  jollify.  Come,  David,  I'll  'scort  you 
an'  the  passin,  an'  the  Jedge  kin  fetch 
Abby,"  and  seizing  an  arm  of  each,  he 
hurried  them  into  the  dining-hall,  where  a 
most  tempting  collation  of  fruits,  cakes  and 
cold  meats  was  spread,  to  be  eaten  stand- 
ing. 

Judge  Winston,   still    wondering    at  the 


80  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

surprising  beauty  and  charm  of  the  bride, 
offered  his  arm,  with  the  most  cavalier  and 
courtly  grace  he  could  command,  and  led  her 
after. 

"Now,  my  friends,  these  fixin's  waz  got 
ter  eat  an'  ter  drink,  so  you  kin  thest  roll  up 
your  sleeves  an'  pitch  in,"  cried  the  old  gen- 
tleman, in  hearty  hospitality.  "Come, 
passin,  lay  holt,  an'  you  too,  David,  thes 
sail  in.  We  didn't  fix  any  regular  dinner, 
caze  hit  warn't  the  reg'lar  dinner-time,  ye 
know  ;  but  as  Abby  thought  as  how  may  be 
as  you  had  ter  drive  so  fur  that  you  mout 
get  hongry  afore  you  got  a  whack  at  any, 
she  'lowed  as  we'd  have  a  little  cole  snack  ter 
sorter  stay  yer  stummick  like  ;  so  thest  pull 
off  an'  wade  in." 

"  Thanks,  and  as  I  haven't  yet  breakfasted, 
it  is  a  lucky  providence  to  me." 

"What's  that  yer  say?  Hain't  had  no 
breakfust  ?  Abby,  d'ye  hear  that  ?  This 
young  man  sez  he  hain't  had  any  breakfust 
ter-day." 

"Oh,  I  am  sorry  that  I  did  not  know, 
that  I  might  have  ordered  something  warm. 
It  is  not  yet  too  late.  I  can  have  it  still. 
It  will  only  take  a  moment.  Sam,  tell  Aunt 
Sealey  to  have  some  coffee  and  eggs  and 
toast,  in  an  instant,"  cried  the  young  mis- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  81 

tress,  dropping  the  Judge's  arm  in  a  little 
dismay  and  turning  to  look  after  her  hus- 
band's comfort. 

"Oh,  no;  not  on  my  account.  By  no 
means.  My  sluggishness  deserves  a  punish- 
ment. And  besides,  this  spread  is  ample. 
I  could  wish  no  better,"  he  protested,  feeling 
a  slight  compunction  for  the  wifely  solici- 
tude so  needlessly  wasted  on  himself. 

"  No  ;  I  insist  upon  it ;  you  must  have  a 
warm  breakfast,  if  it  is  only  an  egg  and 
coffee.  Here,  take  a  seat  at  this  table. 
The  gentlemen  will  excuse  you.  And  here 
is  a  basket  of  fruit  as  a  relish,"  and  with  an 
irresistible  insistence  she  drew  him  to  a  table, 
forced  him  to  be  seated  and  helped  him  to 
the  fruit. 

"  Thanks.  This  is  much  better  than  I 
deserve.  Will  you  be  seated  too  ?  "  f  astening 
upon  a  delicious  orange. 

"Not  until  you  are  served.  Ah!  here  is 
the  coffee,"  as  Sam — the  veritable  slave 
of  the  wonderful  lamp — came  in,  followed 
closely  by  a  waiter  with  steaming  coffee, 
delicious  cream,  smoking  eggs,  and  by  rare 
good  luck,  a  cut  of  the  most  delicious  ten- 
derloin the  epicurean  taste  of  the  young 
gentleman  had  ever  tested. 

Deftly  she  drew  the  coffee  and  arranged 
6 


82  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

the  viands,  and  then  with  a  sweetness  that 
touched  even  him,  she  said  : 

1 '  And  now,  sir,  if  you  will  help  yourself 
and  will  excuse  me,  I  will  return  to  our 
guests  ? " 

"Certainly.  My  appetite  needs  no  coach- 
ing. I  am  positively  ravenous,"  he  an- 
swered, falling  to  with  a  zest  that  confirmed 
the  averment,  while  she  turned  to  the  others, 
where  the  inroads  already  made  upon  the 
buffet  told  that  robust  health  needed  no 
ceremony. 

His  breakfast  finished,  the  young  gen- 
tleman rejoined  the  others  at  the  sideboard, 
when  the  old  gentleman  said  : 

u  Now,  Sam,  you'd  better  begin  a  poppin' 
ov  the  corks. " 

Sam  was  an  expert  with  the  corkscrew, 
and  soon  the  delightful  aroma  of  champagne 
was  filling  the  room. 

' '  An'  now,  chilluns  ;  you  must  drink  each 
other's  health.  Yere's  a  glass,"  filling  a 
goblet  and  handing  it  to  the  groom  ; 
' '  Drink  ye  both  ov  it.  Drink  ter  one  anuther 
an'  ter — ter  yer — yerfambly." 

The  young  man  took  it,  a  little  ungra- 
ciously and  handed  it  to  the  bride.  She 
placed  it  to  her  lips,  kissed  the  foaming 
brim  and  handed  it  back  to  him.  With  a 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  83 

strange  perversity,  for  which  he  despised 
himself  the  next  moment,  he  seized  it, 
almost  rudely,  and  holding  it  a  second,  as  if 
tempted  to  dash  it  in  the  old  man's  face,  he 
raised  it  to  his  wide-opened  mouth  and 
gulped  it  down,  as  if  it  had  been  a  cup  of 
hemlock,  at  a  single  swallow. 

The  young  lady  noticed  the  strange  dis- 
courtesy and  it  cut  her.  Judge  Winston 
also  noticed  it,  as  he  noticed  the  hurt  look 
that  came  in  her  eyes,  and  with  a  strangely 
tender  yearning  in  his  heart,  he  turned  to 
her. 

"  My  daughter,"  he  said,  filling  a  glass  and 
offering  it  to  her,  "  I  must  beg  you  to  conse- 
crate a  cup  for  me.  Will  you  touch  it  with 
your  lips  that  I  may  drink  to  your  happiness, 
both  in  this  world  and  in  the  world  to 
come  2 " 

She  took  it  and  reverently  kissed  the 
sparkling  lip,  while  an  unbidden  tear 
dropped  in  the  amber  tide.  With  a  blush 
she  turned  to  throw  it  aside,  and  to  fill  an- 
other, when  the  gallant  gentleman  inter- 
fered. 

"No,  no,"  snatching  it  from  her.  "It  is 
hallowed  now.  The  pearls  of  Cleopatra 
could  not  made  it  so  precious  as  this.  And 
now,  my  daughter,  here  is  a  health  to  you  : 


84  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

If  the  graces  of  mind  and  heart  can  ap- 
proach the  exquisite  loveliness  of  form  and 
face,  thy  life  must  stand  as  a  pattern  for  the 
angels  to  walk  by." 

"You  are  very  good,  sir,  to  think  so 
kindly  of  me,"  she  answered  simply. 

And  then  the  rector,  full  of  good  cheer 
and  bubbling  over  with  kindness,  struck 
in : 

"As  the  rector  of  Mrs.  Winston,  I  must 
be  permitted  to  respond  to  your  very  appro- 
priate sentiment.  I  have  known  her  from 
childhood  ;  indeed,  I  may  say  from  infancy. 
Her  sainted  mother  placed  her  in  my  arms 
to  be  christened  ;  I  stood  by  the  bishop, 
when  he  laid  his  reverend  hands  upon  her 
devout  head,  I  have  watched  her  as  she  grew 
into  lovely  womanhood,  the  petted  darling 
of  a  luxuriant  home,  and  the  mistress  of 
everything  that  wealth  could  buy,  and 
though  the  angels  may  not  look  to  human 
excellence  for  a  pattern,  I  can  say  that,  in 
all  these  years,  I  have  never  known  her  to 
give  utterance  to  a  single  thought,  or  do  a 
single  deed  that  an  angel  itself  might  blush 
to  have  done.  And  you,  my  young  friend," 
turning  to  the  young  husband,  "should 
never  suffer  the  sun  to  go  down  without 
falling  upon  your  knees  and  thanking  your 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  85 

God,  for  giving  you  such  a  wife  ;  the  sweet- 
est and  best  gift  of  His  providence." 

The  young  man  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
then,  constrained  by  a  sense  of  politeness, 
said : 

"  In  behalf  of  the  lady,  I  must  thank  you 
for  the  very  pretty  tribute  you  have  paid  to 
her  moral  worth,  and  you,  too,  my  father,  for 
your  gallant  compliment  to  her  personal 
charms.  You  are  both  very  kind,  and  I  am 
sure  she  is  not  ungrateful.  But  before  I 
can  appropriate  to  myself  so  much  moral 
and  personal  excellence,  I  must  first  try  to 
make  myself  worthy  of  it.  And  now,  I  re- 
gret very  much  to  have  to  interrupt,  so  far 
as  my  going  may  do  so,  the  festivities  of 
this  occasion  ;  but  I  suppose  that  you  are  all 
aware  of  the  exigencies  of  my  canvass,  and 
can  therefore  excuse  my  going.  It  is  now 
past  eleven  o'clock,  and  I  have  to  be  at 
Philippi,  twenty  miles  away,  at  one." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  bizness  is  bizness,  an'  we  all 
understand.  Thes  you  go  rite  erlong. 
Bizness  afore  pleasure,  as  the  feller  said 
when  he  thrashed  his  wife  afore  he  kissed  'er. 
Abby  knows,  an'  she  kin  wait ;  can't  yer, 
Abby?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  You  must  on  no  account  neg- 
lect your  interest  for  me.  You  are  looking 


86  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

for  your  gloves,  sir  ?  I  think  you  dropped 
them  in  my  boudoir.  Nanny,  go  fetch  Mr. 
Winston's  gloves,"  she  ordered,  noting  the 
nervous  searching  of  pockets  and  beating  of 
breast,  in  quest  of  the  unlucky  gloves.  In 
a  minute  Nanny  returned  with  the  gaunt- 
lets, and  drawing  them  on  he  said  : 

"Thanks!  And  now  I  must  say  good- 
bye." 

"  I  will  walk  with  you  to  the  door,"  slip- 
ping her  hand  through  his  arm,  "I  shall 
expect  to  hear  a  good  report  from  Philippi," 
this  as  they  passed  into  the  hall. 

"I  shall  do  my  best.  In  truth,  I  have  to 
do  my  utmost.  I  find  that  I  have  taken  a 
Herculean  task  upon  myself." 

"Is  the  political  stable  so  much  dirtier 
than  you  thought  ? " 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  the  stable  !  I  have  not  the 
temerity  to  undertake  that.  No,  it  is  one 
of  the  Golden  'Apples,'  I  have  rashly  essayed 
to  pluck,  but  I  find  them  more  difficult  to 
reach  than  I  thought.  Lawson  claims  them 
as  his  own,  and  I  fear  that  I  shall  need  an 
Atlas  to  ever  get  one." 

"I  wish  I  could  be  the  Atlas,  or  else  one 
of  the  Hesperides,  I  think  I  could  steal  one 
for  you.  I  wish  so  much  to  help  you.  If 
my  good  wishes  can  avail,  you  have  them, 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  87 

most  assuredly.     I  shall  be  so  proud  of  your 
success. " 

' l  Thanks.     You  are  very  good. " 
"When — when  may  I  expect  to  see — see, 
you  again  ? "   she   asked   a  little   stammer- 
ingly. 

"I  can  hardly  tell  you.  You  must  not 
think  me  discourteous  ;  but  the  fact  is,  I 
have  an  appointment  to  meet  every  day 
until  the  election,  next  month,  and  each 
appointment  carries  me  farther  away.  We 
speak  to  day  at  Philippi,  and  to-morrow  at 
Grafton,  twenty  miles  beyond,  so  there  is 
slight  chance  of  my  being  in  the  city  again 
until  the  campaign  is  finished.  The  pro- 
gram," he  added,  dimly  feeling  that  some- 
thing further  in  the  way  of  an  apology  was 
needed,  "  was  all  arranged,  before  this — 
this  'bizness,'  as  your  father  so  bluntly  calls 
it,  was  even  thought  of,  and  I  may  not  hope 
to  change  it.  My  adversary  is  an  adroit 
trickster  and  would  be  swift  to  take  advan- 
tage of  any  laches  on  my  part.  The  Ameri- 
can Sovereign  is  more  coy  than  the  Ameri- 
can maiden,  and  one  has  to  woo  more  per- 
sistently to  win.  He  permits  no  division, 
nor  diversion  of  attentions  during  the  can- 
vass, or  courtship,  rather.  As  you  have 
graciously  dispensed  with  my  devoirs  so  far, 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


I  must  trust  you  to  still  further  indulge  me 
until  the  more  exacting  sovereign  is  wooed 
and  won." 

"Certainly,  sir,  I  shall  not  expect  any 
attention  that  it  may  inconvenience  you  to 
give.  I  wish  you  success  in  your  wooing — 
and  I  may  further  trust  that  you  will  find 
more  satisfaction  in  the  winning  than  you 
have  found  in  this.  I  will  not  keep  you 
longer.  Good-bye,  sir,"  offering  her  hand. 

They  were  now  at  the  door  ;  there  was  no 
one  in  the  hall  and  there  could  have  been  no 
possible  offense  against  prudery  for  him  to 
have  taken  a  kiss.  Surely  had  he  known 
the  sweetness  of  the  lips  that  were  so  gra- 
ciously ready  to  give  one,  he  would  not  have 
turned  away  with  such  a  bitter  sneer  on  his 
own,  nor  with  such  a  demon  of  shame, 
hatred  and  pain  gnawing  at  his  heart. 

"Good-bye."  And  an  indifferent  shake 
of  the  timorous  little  hand  was  all  that  he 
gave. 

She  stood  at  the  door  and  looked  after 
him — that  tall,  handsome  young  man,  the 
husband  who  had  not  yet  looked  into  the 
glorious  beauty  of  her  face,  the  wondrous 
depths  of  her  eyes,  until  he  had  lashed  his 
spirited  horses  around  the  corner  and  was 
whisked  out  of  sight,  and  then,  waiting  only 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  89 

a  little  moment  to  wipe  away  all  suspicion 
of  tears  from  her  eyes,  she  went  back  to 
her  guests. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE     FAIR     BRIDE. 

JUDGE  WINSTON  uneasily  felt  that  an  un- 
necessary pain  had  been  inflicted  upon  that 
innocent  girl,  and  he  was  almost  obse- 
quiously tender  in  his  manner,  as  he  led  her 
back  into  the  parlor. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  whisperingly,  as 
if  half  to  himself.  "I  mean,"  he  added, 
noting  the  puzzled  look  of  inquiry  in  her 
face,  ' '  I  am  very  sorry  that  we  did  not  know 
you  better  before. " 

"Or  else  not  known  me  at  all?"  she 
asked,  without  acerbity,  but  in  respectful 
earnestness. 

"Oh,  no!  lam  truly  glad  that  this  has 
all  come  about.  I  feel  that  you  are  to  be  a 
new  gladness  in  my  life  ;  that  you  are  to 
bring  joy  to  my  home  and  peace  to  my  life. 
I  only  meant,  by  being  sorry,  that  we  have 
been  very  unjust  to  you  ;  that  we  have 
sadly  misjudged  you.  I  can  only  express 


90  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

my  sorrow  and  hope  that  we  can  make 
amends."' 

"Yes,  I  know  that  I  have  been  despised 
as  an  interloper,  for  society  is  unjust  as 
well  as  merciless.  But  if  I  may  only  hope 
to  gain  his  confidence,  to  win  his  love,  it 
will  more  than  compensate.  Oh  !  sir,  can 
you  tell  me  what  it  is  I  can  do  to  draw  him 
to  me  ;  what  witchery  I  must  practice  to 
overcome  the  repulsion  I  can  read  in  his 
face  ? "  she  cried,  with  a  pathetic  yearning 
in  her  voice. 

"You  need  do  nothing,  my  child.  No 
witchery  is  necessary,  save  the  subtle  witch- 
ery of  your  native  sweetness.  Only  let  him 
see  you,  as  I  see  you,  now,  and  his  heart 
will  open  to  your  sweetness  as  the  flower 
opens  to  the  warmth  of  the  sun.  I  am 
sorry  that  his  other  duties  take  him  away 
from  you  so  soon.  I  am  anxious  for  him  to 
know  you,  for  to  know  you  will  be  but  to 
love  you,"  he  answered  soothingly. 

' '  You  are  kind,  sir,  to  think  so,  and  the 
thought  makes  me  very  happy  ;  he  himself 
was  good  enough  to  write  that  when  he 
comes  to  know  me  he'  might  possibly  learn 
to  love  me.  Ah  !  I  wonder  if  he  will  ever 
know  how  fondly  I  treasure  that  sweet  pos- 
sibility ?" 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  91 

"  He  will  learn  in  good  time,  and  with  the 
knowledge  will  come  the  love  that  is  so 
richly  your  due.  And  in  good  time  he  will 
also  learn  to  know  and  to  esteem  your  ex- 
cellent father.  You  may  not  know  what  a 
good  friend  your  father  has  been  to  me  and 
my  son  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  my  father  is  a  friend 
to  you,  and  that  he  loves  your  son  almost 
as  he  loves  me.  I  am  sorry  that  society 
raises  such  a  formidable  barrier  between 
us." 

"No,  not  formidable,  or  at  least  not 
impassable.  Your  father  has  taught  me 
that  manly  worth,  is  above  all  conventional 
distinctions  ;  that  a  rugged,  homely  virtue 
is  superior  to  the  most  polished  of  courtly 
graces  ;  just  as  your  surprising  loveliness, 
my  daughter,  has  shown  me  that  the  per- 
fection of  womanly  beauty  can  be  found 
elsewhere,  than  in  the  exclusive  homes  of 
the  aristocracy. " 

"Now,  Abby,  give  us  a  chune  ;  I  golly  !  if 
my  ole  shoulder  didn't  twitch  so  bad  I'd  git 
my  ole  fiddle  down  an'  we'd  set  the  Jedge 
an'  the  passin  a  dancing  ter  that  good  ole 
hoe-down  : 

"  '  'Possum  up  a  gum  stump,  raccoon  in  the  holler, 
Purty  gal  at  our  house,  fat  as  she  kin  woller.' 


92  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

Ah  !  well  I  rikolect  how  ole  Jim  Goff 
played  that  very  chune  that  very  night,  an' 
how  me  an'  yer  mammy  danced  hit,  the 
night  we  war  married,  I  means.  No  purtier, 
no  sprier  dancer  ever  turned  a  pardner,  nor 
shook  a  purtier  foot  than  your  mammy. 
She  wore  a  number  two  shoe,  an'  I 
'members  I  had  ter  make  a  leetle  slim  last 
a  purpuse  ter  make  her  shuze  on.  They 
was  thest  like  yourn,  Abby.  Poke  out  yer 
foot  an'  let  the  Jedge  see  hit — I  lay  hits 
the  purtiest  foot  he  ever  seed.  Eh  ?  well 
then,  yer  needn't  mind  ;  yer  needn't  turn 
so  red,  but  come  an'  give  us  a  chune  any- 
how. Eh,  Jedge,  do  yer  like  music  ? " 
broke  in  the  old  gentleman,  warmed  by 
the  extra  potation  in  honor  of  the  occa- 
sion, into  a  hilarious  remembrance  of  his 
own  happy  wedding-day.  "The  passin 
yere,  is  thest  hunky  on  it,"  he  continued, 
without  giving  the  Judge  time  to  re- 
spond :  ' '  'specially  when  Abby  sings  one 
ov  her  ole  love  songs  fer  'im.  Eh  !  Doctor  ? " 
giving  the  rector  a  friendly  dig  in  the  ribs 
with  his  thumb. 

"Yes,  she  sings  very  sweetly,  and  lam 
always  delighted  to  hear  her,"  readily  as- 
sented the  reverend  gentleman. 

"And  I  too,   am    passionately    fond    of 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  93 

music.  "Will  you  sing  one  of  your  songs  for 
me  ? "  asked  the  Judge. 

"I  will  be  glad  if  I  can  please  you,"  she 
answered  simply,  as  she  took  her  place  at 
the  piano. 

The  Judge,  to  prepare  himself  against  an- 
other surprise,  expected  to  hear  a  passable 
boarding-school  performance,  but  he  was 
not  prepared  for  the  burst  of  song  that 
flowed,  a  liquid,  breathing  stream  of  melody 
from  her  silver  throat,  as  she  sang  the  sim- 
ple old  English  ballad  she  knew  her  rector 
loved  so  well  to  hear. 

"Eh,  Jedge;  how  is  that  fer  high?  Kin 
yer  side  ov  the  house  beat  hit  ? "  trium- 
phantly whispered  her  father,  as  the  last  rav- 
ishing trill  fairly  lifted  his  fond  old  heart 
into  an  ecstasy  of  delight. 

"That  is  heaven  itself,"  answered  the 
Judge,  stepping  softly  to  her  side  and  stoop- 
ing to  kiss  her  head.  "This  has  been  a  day 
of  surprises  to  me,"  he  whispered,  "but  this 
last  is  the  sweetest  surprise  of  all.  I  must 
thank  you  for  it." 

"I  am  only  too  glad  to  please  you,"  and 
the  brimming  tears  told  how  tenderly  his 
words  had  touched  her. 

"It  more  than  pleases  me  ;  it  fills  my  soul 
with  rapturous  delight.  Where  in  the  world 


94  DA  FID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

have  you  been  keeping  this  wonderful  voice 
all  this  while  ? " 

"She  has  been  wasting  it  upon  us  two 
old  men,  her  father  and  me,"  spoke  in  the 
rector,  with  a  smile.  ' '  Don't  you  think  us 
selfish  to  appropriate  such  a  delight  all  to 
ourselves  ? " 

"Wasting?"  she  asked  ;  "then  you  have 
only  been  flattering  me  all  this  while,  with 
the  pretense  that  you  enjoyed  it." 

"No,  no.  We  did  enjoy  it,  but  it  was  all 
too  good  for  us." 

"  Too  good  for  you  ?  Then  I  shall  be  sadly 
puzzled  to  know  what  further  use  to  make 
of  it." 

"I  tells  yer,  Jedge,"  cut  in  her  father, 
"she's  thest  been  a  savin'  hit  all  fer  David  ; 
eh,  Abby  ?  Yer  needn't  blush  so." 

"Then  David  should  be  a  very  happy 
man  ;  but  I  shall  have  to  beg  one  for  myself, 
if  only  one.  David  may  never  miss  it. " 

"  Oh  !  I  shall  always  reserve  one  for  you— 
for  you  and  my  home  friends,"  she  smilingly 
answered,  softly  touching  the  keys  for  a 
suggestion. 

"Sing  'Ole  Robin  Gray'  for  the  Jedge; 
that  allers  sorter  makes  me  feel  a  little  sorter 
solumcholly-like. " 

"Auld   Robin  Gray"  was  rendered  with 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  95 

such  touching  pathos  as  to  draw  tears  from 
the  three'  old  men. 

"An'  now  gin  us  somethin'  funny  ter 
make  us  laff  agin,"  cried  her  father,  mop- 
ping his  eyes. 

As  sparkling  in  comedy  as  she  was  tender 
in  pathos,  she  soon  had  them  smiling  again, 
and  then  the  rector  rose  up  and  went  to  her. 

"  Now,  give  me  '  Bethany,'  and  let  me  go." 

As  the  angels  might  have  sung  it  she  sang 
"Nearer  my  God  to  Thee,"  and  then  the 
man  of  God,  tenderly  laying  his  hand  upon 
her  bowed  head,  gave  her  his  blessing  and 
went  on  his  way. 

"Now,  Jedge,  I'll  hev  ter  leave  you  an' 
Abby  ter  get  aquainted  with  one  anuther, 
while  I  has  to  do  a  little  figgerin'  in  my 
room.  I've  a  little  bizness  as  needs  fixin',  an' 
bizness  iz  bizness,  yer  know,  with  me,  an'  so 
you  kin  thest  make  yourseff  at  home.  Abby 
is  thest  as  much  yourn  now  az  she  iz  mine, 
an'  'less  I'm  monstus  mistakin  you'll  soon  be 
thest  as  proud  ov  her  as  I  am  myseff . " 

"  Yes,  I  am  really  and  truly  proud  of  her 
already,"  answered  the  Judge,  as  the  old 
gentleman  politely  bowed  himself  out. 
"And  now,  my  daughter,  I  wish  to  look  at 
you  good,"  taking  her  hand  as  she  arose 
from  the  piano,  and  leading  her  into  the  full 


96  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

light  of  a  window  ;  "your  beauty  is  so  sur- 
prising, so  different  from  what  I  expected, 
that  I  wish  to  identify  it  as  real,  and  to  fix 
it  in  my  mind  as  a  joy  forever." 

And  the  beauty  of  Abigail  was  indeed  a 
surprising  one  ;  and  what  made  it  the  more 
perplexingly  sweet,  it  was  full  of  surprises  :— 
each  look,  each  turn  of  the  face,  each  shade 
of  color  seemed  to  unhide  a  lurking  beauty. 
Her  face  was  one  of  those  rare  faces  which 
embodies  in  one  a  dual  style  of  beauty,  both 
surprisingly  distinct  in  characteristic  charm, 
but  each  exquisite  in  its  own  peculiar  loveli- 
ness. 

Standing  vis-a-vis,  looking  into  the  fair, 
open  face,  the  large,  lustrous  brown  eyes, 
with  their  exquisitely-arched  brows  and  long 
silken  lashes  of  jet ;  the  sweet  mouth  and 
the  peachy,  dimpled  chin,  one  beholds  a 
Madonna  in  her  sweetest  form  of  passive 
loveliness.  Then  turn  to  the  side  and  sil- 
houette the  profile  against  the  crystal  air ; 
the  glorious  crown  of  hair,  flossy  as  silk  and 
dark  as  the  raven's  wing,  the  snowy  fore- 
head, the  inky  eyebrow,  the  drooping  eyelids 
with  the  long  sweeping  lashes,  the  pretty 
nose,  slightly  "tilt-tipped,"  the  thin  lips 
piquantly  curled,  the  classic  chin  and  the 
gracefully-poised  neck,  soft  and  white  as 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  97 

the  swan's,  and  lo  !  Venus  herself,  in  all  her 
enchanting  loveliness,  stands  before  you,  a 
pleasing  surprise  for  the  moment  and  a  con- 
stant gladness  for  all  time.  Her  form  was 
perfect,  her  stature  slightly  above  the  ordi- 
nary height  of  woman,  her  motion  lissome 
and  graceful,  and  to  this  beauty  of  form  and 
loveliness  of  face  was  to  be  added  a  still 
more  exquisite  charm,  that  indescribable 
charm  of  manner  and  sweetness  of  expres- 
sion that  can  make  even  a  homely  woman 
look  lovely  and  sweet. 

For  a  moment  the  Judge,  with  a  critically 
refined  taste,  studied  the  beautiful  picture, 
the  most  completely  lovely  that  his  eye  ever 
beheld,  the  young  lady  submitting  to  the 
inspection  with  a  slightly  puzzled  air  that 
lent  at  one  and  the  same  time  soberness  to 
the  vis-a-vis  and  piquancy  to  the  profile. 

"  Ah  !  I  see  you  are  puzzled,  but  you  must 
not  think  me  impertinent,"  he  said,  as  the 
expressive  eyes  began  to  dilate  into  wonder 
under  the  crucial  steadiness  of  his  look.  "It 
is  not  an  idle  nor  impertinent  curiosity  that 
attracts  my  gaze.  I  was  only  wishing  that 
my  son  had  seen  you  as  I  see  you  now.  But 
never  mind,  he  will  see  you,  for  I  shall  tell 
him.  But  now,  daughter— or,  what  name 
shall  I  call  you  ? " 
7 


98  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  If  I  felt  more  secure  in  the — that  is,  I 
mean  if — if — I  felt  as  sure  of  his  love,  as  I — 
I  shall  hope  some  day  to  be,  I  should  wish 
for  no  dearer  name  than  daughter ;  but 
until  he  tells  me  that  I  may  claim  it,  it  some- 
how, sir,  seems  a  mockery,  and  I  must  ask 
you  to  call  me  by  my  own  name,"  she 
answered. 

"  And  that  is  what  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Grace  Abigail.  My  mother 
called  me  Grace  ;  my  father  calls  me  Abby, 
after  my  mother.  I  believe,  sir,  I  should 
like  for  you  to  call  me  Abigail." 

"  Ah  !  so  be  it ;  Abigail.  And  you  know 
that  my  son  is  David — David  and  Abigail  ; 
that  is  a  coincidence.  Ah  !  let  us  hope,  a 
happy  one,"  he  answered  cheerily. 

"  Oh  !  sir,  I  must  tell  you,  and  you  must 
not  laugh  at  me  for  my  faith,  nor  call  it 
superstition,  for  I — I  am  not  superstitious. 
I  do  not  believe  in  dreams,  nor  signs,  nor  in 
ordinary  stichistry  ;  but  when  he,  David — 
Mr.  Winston,  I  mean,  wrote  me  such  a  cold 
formal  note,  yesterday,  proposing  to  marry 
me,  I  was  sorely  troubled  what  to  do  ;  I  could 
not  decide  for  myself,  and  I  had  no  mother 
to  go  to  ;  I  could  only  ask  my  God  to  help 
me,  and  I  got  on  my  knees  and  prayed  to 
Him  for  guidance ;  but  feeling  no  strengthen- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  99 

ing  help,  I  arose  from  my  knees  in  a  blind 
despair,  when  my  eyes  rested  upon  my  Bible, 
and  it  came  to  me  that  I  would  find  my 
answer  there.  I  opened  the  book,  and  the 
first  words  that  caught  my  eye  were  those 
concerning  the  betrothal  of  David  and  Ab- 
igail. I  can  repeat  the  passage,  for  it  is 
rooted  in  my  memory,"  and  in  a  voice 
strangely  sweet  she  repeated  the  story : 
"  "  And  when  the  servants  of  David  were  come 
to  Abigail  to  Carmel,  they  spake  unto  her 
saying  ;  David  sent  us  unto  thee  to  take  thee 
to  him  to  wife.  And  she  arose  and  bowed 
herself  on  her  face,  to  the  earth  and  said  : 
Behold,  let  thine  handmaid  be  a  servant  to 
wash  the  feet  of  the  servants  of  my  lord. 
And  Abigail  hasted  and  arose  and  rode  upon 
an  ass,  with  five  damsels  of  hers  that  went 
after  her.  And  she  went  after  the  mes- 
sengers of  David  and  became  his  wife.'  Now 
sir,  was  that  chance  ?  a  mere  coincidence  ;  an 
accidental  finding  of  two  names  thus  linked 
together  ?  Was  it  Destiny  or  was  it  the  hand 
of  Providence  that  guided  me  in  answer  to 
my  prayer  ? " 

"  Let  us  accept  it  as  the  oracle  of  God,  and 
trust  to  His  providence  to  bless  your  union," 
he  answered,  reverently  kissing  her ;  and 
then  after  a  moment's  sober  silence  he  con- 


100  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

tinued  :  "  As  David  is  not  here  to  carry  you 
to  our  home  I  must  ask  you  to  go  with  me. 
I  wish  Augusta  to  know  you." 

"Augusta?" 

"  Yes,  my  daughter.     Your  sister." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  know  her.  I  asked 
her  to  come  ;  that  is  I  wrote  him  to  ask  her, 
but— but— 

"  Yes,  I  know  ;  I  understand  ;  but  like  all 
of  us  Augusta  did  not  know.  As  I  said 
before,  we  have  sadly  misjudged  you ;  you 
must  forgive  us.  And  you  will  let  me  bring 
her  to  see  you  ?  I  will  bring  her  this  after- 
noon. I  am  so  anxious  for  you  two  to  know 
each  other,  for  I  know  that  you  will  soon 
learn  to  love  one  another." 

11  Oh,  yes  ;  if  she  will  only  come.  No  false 
pride  shall  hold  me  back  from  meeting  her 
more  than  half-way  ;  please  bring  her ;  even 
now.  Perhaps  she  will  dine  with  us  ;  and 
you  too.  Remember  that  it  is  my  wedding 
dinner,"  she  added  a  little  playfully. 

"Yes,  that  will  be  pleasant.  I  will  go  at 
once  and  fetch  her.  You  can  tell  your 
father,"  and  delighted  with  the  suggestion 
he  hurried  away  on  the  moment,  to  break 
the  surprising  news  to  his  daughter. 

"  Ho  !  iz  the  Jedge  gone,  a'reddy  ? "  asked 
the  old  gentleman,  coming  in  a  moment 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  101 

later,  to  find  his  daughter  sitting  alone  at 
the  window,  wistfully  looking  far  away,  in 
the  direction  of  Philippi. 

"  Ah  !  I  must  tell  you.  He  has  gone  after 
his  daughter,  Miss  Winston.  They  are  com- 
ing to  dine  with  us,  to-day." 

"  Eh  !  is  thay  ?  That's  good,  an' you  must 
tell  Sealy  ter  put  the  big  pot  in  the  little  one 
an'  make  dumplins  ov  the  skillet.  Tell  her 
thest  ter  spread  herself.  But,  Abby,"  sink- 
ing his  voice  a  little  drearily,  "she's  monstus 
proud,  she  ez,  an'  she's  never  seed  me  an'  hain't 
yused  ter  my  pore-f  okesy  ways,  an'  ez  I  wants 
her  ter  love  you,  'thout  knowin'  ennything 
'bout  me,  I  thinks  hit  best  as  I  should  be  outen 
the  way  when  she  comes.  I've  got  bizness 
at  the  bank  ennyhow,  an'  you  kin  thest  'scuze 
me  ter  the  Jedge." 

"  Father,  I  should  despise  her  forever, 
were  she  to  think  slightingly  of  you.  If  I 
must  lose  you  to  gain  her,  or  him,  or  any 
one  else  in  the  world,  I  shall  not  care  to 
gain  them.  You  are  dearer  to  me  than  all 
others  beside,"  she  cried,  clinging  to  his  arm 
affectionately. 

"Yes,  I  knows,  hunny,  but  you  won't  hev 
ter  lose  me.  When  they  comes  ter  know 
you  thay  won't  think  ennything  wrong  o' 
me.  When  she  loves  you  she  won't  despize 


102  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

me  ;  but  till  she  sees  you  fust  she  mussent 
see  me.  I  knows,  Abby,  an  hit's  all  right. 
Human  natur  iz  human  natur,  an'  you  can't 
change  hit  no  more'n  the  Esop  can  change 
hiz  hide,  nor  the  lepperd  his  spots.  Now  ye 
thes  lemma  work  hit.  I'll  be  down  at  the 
bank,  an'  you  kin  tell  the  Jedge  I'll  get  a 
snack  at  the  resteraw,  an'  you  ken  have  the 
whole  house  ter  youseffs.  An'  mine  an'  tell 
Sealy  thes  ter  hump  herseff  on  the  dinner. 
Come  now,  hunny,  don't  look  so  sorry.  You 
mussent  mine  me ;  no  you  mussent.  Hit 
'ill  come  right  in  the  eend,  yer  see  if  hit 
don't.  How  d'ye  like  the  Jedge,  anyhow  ? 
He's  a  jolly  ole  coon,  hain't  'e  ? "  divertingly. 

"He  was  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  shall 
love  him  always." 

"In  course  yer  will,  an'  you'll  love  David 
too,  arter  awhile,  an'  he'll  love  you,  an' 
well  all  like  one  anuther,  an'  we'll  all  be 
thes  as  happy  as  a  passel  ov  dead  pigs  in  the 
sunshine.  So  run  now,  hunny,  an'  wash  yer 
face  an'  git  all  them  tears  clean  away,  an 
look  thes  as  bright  az  a  big  sunflower  when 
the  tippy-bob  comes.  I  thes  know's  she'll 
'spect  ter  see  a  tackey  an  I  wants  yer  ter 
'sprize  her  like  you  'sprized  the  Jedge,  thes 
now.  Thar's  nothin'  in  the  world  to  take 
the  starch  outen  a  feller,  or  the  conceit 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  103 

outen  a  girl  like  a  'sprize  at  fust  sight.  Hit 
thes  knocks  the  socks  offen  'em  at  once, 
an'  'specially  the  female  'umman.  Ef  ole 
Paul  hadn't  a  been  struck  bline  with  'sprize 
at  the  fust  pop,  he  wouldn't  a  never  knowecl 
what  hit  'im  ;  'so  now,  sweety,  I'll  git  off 
afore  they  comes.  Thar — thar,  brighten 
up,"  soothingly  kissing  her.  "  You  mus- 
sent  cry.  You'll  spile  all  the  purty,"  and 
with  the  moisture  almost  blinding  his  own 
eyes,  he  tenderly  kissed  her  again,  one  3 
more,  and  hurried  away,  to  keep  from 
breaking  down  utterly,  while  she,  with  a 
brave  effort  to  be  strong,  went  up  to  her 
dressing-room,  to  wash  away  all  traces  of 
tears  she  was  so  powerless  to  keep  back. 

Surely,  she  could  not  know  how  sweetly 
those  unasked-for  pearls  glorified  the  beauty 
of  her  face,  or  she  would  not  have  hurried 
away,  in  such  haste,  to  wash  them  off -before 
any  one  might  come  to  see  them. 


104  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MISS  WINSTON  MUCH  AGAINST  HER  WILL,  CALLS 
UPON  HER  NEW  SISTER-IN-LAW. 

JUDGE  WINSTON  found  his  daughter  in  an 
unamiable  mood.  She  had  wept  off  the 
hysteria  of  mortified  pride,  and  was  now 
sunk  in  an  aftermath  of  morose  and  sullen 
anger.  The  traces  of  weeping  were  still  on 
her  cheeks,  for  she  had  been  too  callous  in 
her  humiliation  to  even  care  to  remove  them. 
Her  father  noted  the  abandon  of  misery,  and 
somehow  it  irritated  him.  He  felt  it  a  re- 
proach to  the  gentle  girl  whom  he  had  just 
left,  and  whom  he  felt  had  been  already  too 
grossly  insulted. 

"Are  you  ill?"  he  curtly  asked,  and  the 
unconscious  acerbity  of  tone  resented  the 
slight  that  had  been  put  upon  the  other. 

"I  am  not  ill — only  heart-sick  and  dis- 
gusted. I  was  only  wishing  that  I  was 
Brother  David,  that  I  might  go  out  like 
another  Judas  and  hang  myself,"  she 
answered,  with  a  quick  erection  of  the  pretty 
head. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  105 

"When  your  brother  David  comes  to 
know  what  a  sweet  woman  God  has  given 
him  for  a  wife,  he  will  deserve  to  be  hanged 
as  an  ingrate  if  he  does  not  love  her  as  his 
life." 

"  Sweet  woman,  indeed  !  Forty  thousand 
times  her  fortune  could  not  make  the  woman 
sweet  to  me,  were  I  a  man." 

"Nor  will  her  fortune  ever  make  her 
sweet  to  David 

"  I  shall  hope  not,"  fiercely  interrupting. 
"I  do  hope  he  will  put  her  away,  swap  her 
off  for  a  mulatto,  or  else  sell  her  to  some 
other  fool,  as  her  old  dog  of  a  father  sold  her 
to  him.  I  do  hope  he  may  never  put  eye 
upon  her  again.  And  I  hope,  father,  that 
you  will  never  let  him  fetch  her  here,  for 
the  moment  she  puts  her  foot  in  this  house, 
I  shall  go  away  myself.  He  may  degrade 
himself  and  disgrace  his  name,  but  his  in- 
famy shall  never  touch  me.  I  shall  have 
nothing  ,to  do  with  his  baggage. " 

Her  father  stood  a  moment,  slightly  set 
back  by  the  energy  of  his  daughter's  wrath, 
but  the  climatical  epithet  aroused  his  own, 
and  he  interrupted  sternly  : 

1 '  Come,  this  is  all  stuff  ;  you  are  foolish 
and  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking 
about.  Abigail  is  your  equal  in  all  things 


106  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

that  are  lovely  or  lovable,  and  I  am  sure 
that  she  would  be  superior  to  such  an  in- 
decent display  of  temper  as  this.  I  wished 
myself,  to  bring  her  home,  but  she  has  too 
much  self-respect  to  come  without  her  hus- 
band can  fetch  her.  But  I  have  come  for 
you,  Augusta.  I  must  carry  you  to  her.  I 
wish  you  to  see  her,  I  wish  you  to  know 
her.  You  cruelly  misjudge"  her,  as  David 
misjudges  her  ;  as  I  myself  misjudged  her  ; 
unjustly,  unkindly  misjudged  her.  She  is 
a  sweet  girl,  how  sweet  you  will  have  to  see 
her  yourself  to  know." 

"  But  I  do  not  wish  to  know  her  ;  I  never 
care  to  see  her." 

"But  you  must  see  her,  for  my  sake,  if 
not  for  your  own.  She  is  expecting  you. 
I  voluntarily  told  her  that  I  would  come  for 
you,  and  you  must  go." 

' '  I  cannot  go.  I  despise  her  and  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  her,"  with  an 
emphatic  stamp  of  her  foot. 

"  Then  you  set  my  wishes  at  defiance  ? " 

"You  ought  not  to  ask  such  an  impossi- 
ble thing  of  me." 

"Then  I  shall  not  ask  it.  I  simply  com- 
mand it.  I  have  ordered  the  carriage  ;  get 
ready  at  once, "  he  commanded  sternly. 

"Very  well  !.if  you  command  I  will  have 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  107 

to  obey,  as  Sallie  there  would  have  to  obey. 
If  the  carriage  is  ready  so  am  I,"  rising  up 
with  a  proud,  flashing  eye.  ' '  Sallie,  get  my 
bonnet  and  gloves  ;  I  am  going  to  make  a 
call." 

"Lawzy  mussy,  Miss  Gussie  ;  hain't  yer 
gwine  ter  dress  ?  Yer  hair  iz  all  atumbled 
up  an'  yer  face  iz  thes  splutched  all  over," 
protested  Sallie'  jealous  of  her  mistress' 
pretty  looks. 

"Never  mind  my  hair,  nor  my  dress. 
Nobody  will  see  me.  It  is  only  a  tackey  I 
am  going  to  see,  she  will  know  no  better. 
Now,  sir,  I  am  ready, "  pulling  on  her  gloves. 

"  Very  well;  only,  to  do  my  duty,  I  should 
insist  upon  a  more  becoming  toilet ;  but  as 
you  yourself  will  have  to  suffer  the  mortifi- 
cation, I  will  let  you  go." 

' '  No  mortification  will  ever  equal  the 
humiliation  of  this,"  she  said,  pluckily  stick- 
ing to  the  last  word,  as  she  walked  out  to 
the  carriage  in  a  somewhat  passe  morning- 
gown. 

A  few  minutes'  drive,  in  silence,  brought 
them  to  the  gate.  She  had  often  noted  and 
admired  the  outward  splendor  of  the  place, 
but  had  never  known  to  whom  it  belonged, 
and  now  as  they  stood  before  the  massive 
door,  with  the  elaborately  carved  roses  on 


108  DAVITt  AND  ABIGAIL. 

its  panels  telling  of  the  splendor  within,  she 
began  to  shrink  back  into  a  sickening  sense 
of  her  own  shabbiness. 

"I — I — hardly  expected  such  a  place  as 
this  or  I — I — should  have  dressed, "  she  stain  - 
meringly  whispered,  as  her  father  raised 
the  knocker. 

"It  would  have  been  more  respectful  to 
your  sister ;  however,  it  is  too  late  now," 
he  answered,  giving  the  knocker  a  vigorous 
pull. 

Sam  opened  the  door,  but  the  young  mis- 
tress, herself,  stood  ready  to  greet  them. 

Poor  Augusta  !  if  the  inanimate  splendor 
of  the  place  had  so  overcome  her  obstinate 
indifference,  what  must  have  been  the  over- 
whelming effect  when  she  looked  up  to  find 
herself  in  the  presence  of  the  fairest,  queen- 
liest,  loveliest  lady  she  had  ever  before  seen 
in  all  her  life  ! 

For  a  moment  she  stood,  in  an  admiring 
daze,  forgetting,  in  the  radiant  presence  of 
the  lady,  the  almost  slatternly  appearance  of 
her  own.  It  was  not  until  her  father  spoke 
that  she  was  recalled  to  a  sense  of  the  situ- 
ation, and  then  she  wished  for  the  floor  to 
open  that  she  might  drop  through  and  be 
hidden  from  sight. 

"  This  is  my  daughter  ;  Augusta,   this  is 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  109 


your  sister  Abigail.  I  wish  so  much  for  you 
two  to  know  each  other." 

"If  Miss  Winston  will  let  me,  I  shall  be 
glad  to  know  her, "  answered  Abigail,  a  lit- 
tle uncertain  of  her  advance.  She  had  a 
dim  suspicion  that,  much  against  her  will, 
the  young  lady  had  been  forced  into  the 
association  ;  the  negligee  dress  had  told  its 
story.  No  young  lady  would  venture  in  the 
presence  of  one  whom  she  cared  for,  or  even 
respected,  arrayed  in  such  slovenly  attire. 

The  voice,  though,  was  low  and  sweet, 
and  there  was  a  wistfulness  in  the  look  that 
accompanied  it,  that  helped  to  reassure  the 
abashed  young  lady,  and  clasping  the  hand 
her  father  had  joined  in  hers  she  answered  : 

"I  think  that  I  shall  be  glad  to  know 
you,  too,"  and  then  with  another  glance  at 
the  refined  elegance  of  everything  around, 
she  added  :  ' '  But  you  must  excuse  me  now. 
I  only  called  at  the  hurried  insistence  of  my 
father  and  am  hardly  presentable." 

"  Ah,  but  you  must  dine  with  us.  I  am 
quite  alone,  there  is  no  one  but  your  father. 
I  can  readily  excuse  the  hurry  of  your 
toilet." 

"  You  are  very  good,  but  I  cannot  excuse 
it  myself.  I  really  must  go.  I — I  may 
comeback." 


110  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Oh,  will  you?" 

"Yes.  It  will  not  detain  me  long. 
Father,  will  you  go  with  me,  or  shall  I 
excuse  you  here  ? " 

"I  will  go  with  you.  Your  sister  will 
excuse  us.  I  am  afraid,  my  dear,  that  you 
will  think  us  a  very  eccentric  set?"  turn- 
ing to  the  young  lady  with  an  apologetic 
smile. 

"Oh,  no,  I  think  that  I  understand,"  a 
little  sadly. 

"Yes,  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  do. 
But  by-bye,  we  will  be  back  within  a  half 
hour." 

"Oh,  father,  why  did  you  not  tell  me?" 
cried  Augusta,  as  the  carriage  drove  rapidly 
away. 

"I  tried  to  tell  you  but  you  would  not 
listen." 

"Yes,  but  you  should  have  compelled  me. 
I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Nor  did  I  before  to-day." 

"But  you  told  me  the  other  day  that  she 
was  ugly ;  a  fright  ;  snub-nosed,  freckled- 
faced  and  waddled  like  a  duck." 

"I  was  sadly  mistaken.  I  had  really 
never  seen  her  before  to-day  when  she  came 
in,  so  shyly  clinging  to  your  brother's  arm, 
the  most  radiant  vision  of  womanly  loveli- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  Ill 

ness  my  eyes  ever  rested  upon.  I  was 
astounded  myself.  It  was  some  one  else  I 
had  seen  and  mistaken  for  her." 

"I  was  never  so  ashamed  of  myself 
before  in  all  my  life.  I  did  wish  the  walls 
to  fall  in  upon  me  to  hide  my  shame.  I 
shall  never  do  such  an  unwomanly  thing 
again  as  long  as  I  live.  Even  Sallie  knew 
better.  Does  Brother  Dave  know  ?  Has  he 
really  seen  her  ? " 

"  I  fear  he  does  not  know.  She  looked 
very  sweet  and  conducted  herself  admi- 
rably ;  indeed  few  women  could  have  carried 
themselves  as  she  did  ;  but  I  fear  the  poor 
boy  was  too  much  blinded  by  prejudice, 
willfully  blinded,  to  see.  He  was  not  gra- 
cious, he  was  almost  boorish  and  I  fear  hurt 
her.  He  was  positively  rude,  and  she  is  not 
without  feeling.  She  is  a  girl  of  the  tender- 
est  sensibilities.  She  has  good  sense,  how- 
ever, with  it,  and  a  superb  courage,  and  may 
be  able  to  despise  what  would  otherwise  of- 
fend. Do  you  know  that  is  now  my  great- 
est fear,  that  she  may  come  to  despise  David, 
for  his  unreasonable  prejudice.  What  a 
retribution  upon  our  family  pride  would 
that  be  ?  She,  the  despised  daughter  of  the 
parvenu,  looking  in  scorn  upon  the  scion  of 
my  house.  But  I  trust  to  her  sweetness  to 


112  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

save  our  family  from  such  a  humiliation.  I 
am  sure  that  she  is  as  good  as  she  is  beauti- 
ful." 

"  And  her  name  is  Abigail  ?  What  a  hor- 
rid name ! " 

"  I  think  it  a  very  sweet  one.  David  and 
Abigail !  What  a  happy  coincidence,  is  it 
not  ? " 

"  I  never  heard  of  it  before." 

"  Oh,  Augusta  !  Never  heard  the  script- 
ural story  of  King  David  and  of  Abigail  his 
wife?" 

"  Yes,  of  course  I  have  heard  of  King 
David,  but  I  thought  that  it  was  Uriah  who 
was  his  wife.  But  I  don't  care,  the  names 
are  simply  horrible.  I  don't  see  why  parents 
impose  such  ugly  names  upon  their  helpless 
babies." 

"David  was  named  for  your  grandfather, 
your  mother's  father.  It  was  a  very  dear 
name  to  her  and  I  named  our  first-born  for 
him,"  a  little  penitently. 

"Oh,  David  will  do  well  enough  for  a 
boy,  or  a  man.  It  doesn't  matter  so  much 
for  them,  but  for  a  girl !  Abigail !  It  is 
shocking  and  shows  the  low  taste  of  her 
parents." 

"  She  has  another  name;  the  name  her 
mother  gave  her.  It  is  Grace." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  113 

"Ah  !  that  is  better  ;  that  is  really  pretty, 
and  so  much  more  in  keeping  with  her  looks. 
She  is  wondrously  pretty  and  seems  almost 
Grace  itself.  Why  not  call  her  Grace  ? " 

' '  I  asked  her  what  I  should  call  her,  and 
she  answered  Abigail. " 

"  Ah  !  she  said  that  ?  I  thought  better  of 
her  than  that." 

"  No,  I  think  it  very  sweet  in  her  ;  because 
of  its  association  with  David. " 

"  And  are  they  really  married  ?  It  doesn't 
seem  true." 

' '  Yes,  they  are  really  married,  and  a  hand- 
somer couple  I  never  saw.  My  heart 
swelled  with  pride  as  I  looked  upon  them." 

"And  Brother  Dave  went  right  away,  and 
left  her  ? " 

"  Yes,  just  as  soon  as  he  could  gulp  down 
his  breakfast.  In  truth,  one  to  have  seen 
him  bolting  down  his  food  would  have 
thought  that  it  was  only  for  his  breakfast 
that  he  came." 

"  That  seems  hard." 

"  Yes,  it  is  hard,  and  I  feel  very  much 
ashamed  of  it.  We  must  help  her  to  forgive 
it." 

"  Did  she  seem  to  mind  it  ?  I  should  de- 
spise a  man  who  thought  more  of  his  break- 
fast than  of  me.  If  Walter  can  think  of 


114  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

eating  for  a  week  after  we  are  married,  I 
shall  give  him  my  opinion  of  a  glutton." 

"Yes,  of  course  she  minds  it;  his  going 
away  so  soon,  I  mean  ;  his  eating  was  all 
right  enough,  and  I  could  notice  a  little 
wifely  pleasure  flushing  her  cheeks  as  she 
herself  poured  his  coffee.  It  was  his  un- 
gracious manner  of  leaving  that  hurt  her. 
But  she  was  too  sweet  and  brave  to  let 
any  one  know.  I  could  only  see  it  in  her 
eyes." 

"  But  why  did  she  marry  him,  a  man  she 
never  saw,  and  a  man  who  cares  nothing 
about  her?" 

"  Ah  !  why  did  she  ?  Why  does  any  one 
marry  ?  Why  did  I  marry  your  mother  ?  " 

"  But  you  must  have  loved  my  mother  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes  !  but  how  came  it  about  ?  How 
happened  it  that  we  first  met  ?  Ah  !  there 
are  mysteries,  my  daughter,  that  we  may 
not  understand.  It  was  written  in  the  book 
of  their  lives  that  they  were  to  marry,  and 
if  David  will  only  prove  himself  worthy  of 
Abigail,  I  am  sure  that  he  will  always  bless 
the  Providence  that  gave  him  such  a  wife. 
But  here  we  are  at  home.  Hurry  up  to  your 
room  and  dress  in  a  minute ;  we  must  not 
keep  her  waiting ;  we  have  already  lost  an 
hour.  The  clocks  are  striking  two,  now. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  115 

Robert,  keep  the  carriage  waiting  ;  we  are  to 
drive  back  directly,"  turning  to  the  coach- 
man, as  he  handed  his  daughter  from  the 
carriage. 

"  Ah  !  this  is  so  much  better  ;  so  much 
more  becoming  to  yourself  and  to  your 
station,  than  the  dress  you  wore  before,"  he 
cried  as,  after  a  hurried  toilet,  his  daughter 
reappeared,  arrayed  in  faultless  dinner- 
dress. 

"  I  am  truly  sorry  that  I  did  not  know 
before,"  she  said  springing  into  the  carriage, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  again  at 
the  Hardie  mansion. 

This  time  there  was  no  uneasy  slipping 
away  of  self-sufficiency,  but  rather  a  buoy- 
ancy of  spirits  as  she  again  stood  before  the 
door,  and  there  was  no  abashed  shrinking 
aside  when  the  queenly  young  mistress 
again  came  forward  to  meet  her.  With  a 
little  pause  to  wonder  for  an  instant  at  the 
beauty  of  the  eyes,  Augusta  Winston  put 
out  her  arms  and  took  her  newly-made 
sister  to  her  heart,  only  softly  murmuring 
as  she  kissed  her  : 

"My  sweet  sister." 

After  that  there  was  no  need  of  ceremony, 
explanation,  or  apology  between  them,  that 
sisterly  kiss,  so  artless  in  affection,  sufficed 


116  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

for  all  that  had  passed  and  for  all  that  was 
to  come. 

With  an  arm  affectionately  linked  in  the 
arm  of  each,  the  young  mistress  conducted 
her  honored  guests  into  the  parlor,  where 
another  perplexing  amaze  filled  the  looks  of 
the  young  lady,  as  she  glanced  around  upon 
the  princely  elegance  of  the  room. 

The  little  heart-shaped  dais,  with  its 
rich  carpet  of  purple  velvet,  was  still  there, 
and  the  snowy  bell,  now  redolent  with  its 
mellowing  roses,  hung  in  its  place. 

The  unexpected  sight  of  this  suggested 
a  new  wonder  to  the  admiring  eyes  of  the 
young  lady,  and  she  turned  inquiringly  : 

"  But  I  thought  the  wedding  had  been  a 
private  one  ? " 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  cut  in  her  father,  with  a  mis- 
chievous twinkle  in  his  eye.  '  *  There  were 
a  hundred  admiring  eyes  to  see.  The  room 
was  quite  full,  and  I  very  much  doubt  if  a 
more  loyal  concourse  of  friends  ever  before 
gave  earnest  of  good  wishes  to  a  bride  more 
beloved. " 

"Indeed!  And  who  were  your  attend- 
ants ? "  turning  to  the  bride. 

"Nanny,  there,"  pointing  to  her  grin- 
ning maid,  "  was  kind  enough  to  attend  me." 

"Oh!" 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL,  117 

"  Yes,  and  solemn  as  was  the  moment,  and 
much  as  I  felt  like  crying,  it  was  really  too 
ludicrous  to  see  and  hear  her  as  she  ushered 
your  brother  into  my  room.  f  Here,  Miss 
Grace,  I  Ve  fetched  'im,'  she  cried,  making  one 
of  the  most  comical  little  courtesies  imagi- 
nable. I  could  hardly  keep  from  laughing. 
I  wonder  if  he  was  too  sadly  distraught  to 
notice  it  ?  Heigh-ho  !  "  and  despite  all  her 
bravery,  a  little  sigh  had  to  slip  out. 

"  Ah  !  I  wish  that  I  had  known.  I  ought 
to  have  come.  But  were  there  no  others 
who  could  have  done  that  little  for  you  ?  " 

' '  Oh,  no !  save  your  father  and  mine  there 
were  no  others  present,  except  the  negroes. 
It  was  to  the  negroes  your  father  referred 
when  he  spoke  of  '  admiring  eyes ' ;  "  she 
smilingly  answered.  ' (  The  home  negroes, 
wished  to  see  me  married  and  I  could  not 
refuse  the  good  creatures,"  she  further 
explained,  seeing  a  little  curl  to  the  young 
lady's  upper  lip. 

"And  I  am  glad  that  they  were  present," 
said  her  father,  in  defiance  of  the  little  curl 
to  the  aristocratic  lip.  "They  showed  by 
their  simple  demonstrations  of  affection 
what  a  gentle  mistress  you  are  to  them.  No 
'  epithalamium  sung  by  a  crowned  muse,' 
could  have  spoken  your  ^praises  more 


118  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

eloquently  than  did  their  artless  words  of 
endearment.  It  was  a  scene  that  I  should 
like  to  see  painted." 

"It  touched  me,  and  my  heart  had  to  bless 
them,"  Abigail  answered. 

"You  must  not  mind  my  looking,  I  have 
all  the  young  lady's  proverbial  curiosity 
about  such  things.  Will  you  show  me?" 
asked  Augusta,  rising,  and  stepping  to  the 
dais  and  standing  under  the  roses. 

"  I  am  glad  that  it  interests  you,  and  I  will 
show  you.  Your  father  will  excuse  us,  or 
will  you  look  in  the  library,  sir  ?  Nanny  can 
show  you,  and  I  must  tell  you,  my  father 
charged  me  to  make  his  excuses  to  you:  he 
will  be  detained  at  the  bank  all  the  after- 
noon, and  we  must  not  expect  him." 

"  Oh!  yes,  certainly!  "  and  in  spite  of  his 
better  nature,  there  was  a  soupcon  of  relief 
in  his  feelings  at  the  announcement.  "  And 
I  can  gladly  excuse  you  two  girls, "  he  added 
brightly,  "for  a  little  while,  however,  a  very 
little  while,  until  you  can  gratify  Augusta's 
curiosity.  I  see  she  is  just  dying  by  inches 
to  know  all  about  it.  What  a  pity  we  didn't 
have  a  Jenkins  on  hand  to  write  it  all  down," 
he  laughed,  nodding  back,  as  he  followed 
the  lead  of  Nanny  to  the  library. 

"And    now,"  said  Abigail,    turning  to 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  119 

Augusta,  "  I  will  show  you;  there  across  the 
corridor  is  my  little  drawing  room,  it  opens 
into  my  boudoir  .and  through  it  into  my 
chamber,  and  it  was  in  there  that  I  was 
hidden " 

"All  by  yourself?" 

"  Yes,  all  by  myself,  like  a  criminal  in  his 
cell  awaiting  the  executioner — 

"  Were  you  not  frightened  ?  " 

"I  was  fluttered.  I — I — but  I  had  best 
not  tell  you." 

"Oh,  yes!  tell  me,  you  must  not  mind 
telling  me  anything.  I  feel  already  as  if 
I  had  known  you  always.  I  am  sure  I 
shall  tell  you  all  my  secrets,  all  about 
Walter.  Do  you  know  that  I  am  going 
to  be — be — married  too  ? "  with  a  rosy  blush 
half  of  pride  and  half  of  shame. 

"Ah!     I  hope  you  may  be  happy." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  thank  you  !  but  now  I  have 
told  you  all  my  secret,  you  must  tell  me 
yours.  Tell  on.  What  was  it  you  were 
afraid  to  tell  ? " 

".Well,  I  will  tell ;  I  was  not  quite — quite 
certain  that  he  would  come — 

"  Oh  !  that  was  sad,"  interrupting  with  a 
little  cry. 

"Yes,  it  was  sad  ;  and  sadder  still,  I  hardly 
knew  whether  to  wish  him  to  come,  or  to 


120  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

wish  him  to  stay  away.  But  at  last  he 
came  ;  Nanny  '  fetched  him.' ' 

"That  was  funny,"  another  interruption, 
with  a  little  laugh. 

"  Yes,  and  he  forgot  to  take  of  his  riding^ 
gloves,  but  offered  me  his  hand  still  gloved. 
I  hardly  knew  what  to  do,  hut  he  soon 
recovered  his  wits,  and  pulled  them  off  and 
threw  them  on  the  floor  as  if  they  had  been 
contaminated,  and  then,  without  intending 
it,  I  am  sure,  he  seized  my  hand  with  such  a 
grip  as  to  almost  make  me  scream  with  pain. 
We  came  across  the  corridor  there,  and  en- 
tered the  door  here,  and  we  stood  here,  at  the 
apex  of  the  heart,  and  Dr.  Davenport  stood 
there,  between  the  lobes,  and  we  knelt  under 
the  roses,  and  I — I — I  was  very  happy,  for  I 
do,  oh,  yes,  I  do  love  him,"  and  despite 
herself  the  young  lady  had  to  break  down 
and  go  to  crying.  But  the  tears  were  very 
sweet,  and  only  caused  her  newly- found 
sister  to  slip  her  arm  around  her  waist 
and  cuddle  her  head  against  her  shoulder,  as 
she  soothingly  whispered  : 

"  And  I  am  sure  that  brother  David  will 
love  you  too,  for  he  is  one  of  the  dearest  and 
best  and  kindest  brothers  in  all  the  world; 
and  I — I  shall  always  love  you  for  loving 
him.  And  now  you  must  give  me  one 


DAVID  AXD  ABIGAIL  121 

of  these  buds,"  tiptoeing  up  to  reach  a 
rose. 

"As  many  as  you  may  wish.  Here,  I 
believe  I  am  taller  than  you.  See,  I  can  easily 
reach  them,  and  here  is  a  dainty  cluster 
of  Marshal  Neils,  they  will  open  prettily 
to-morrow.  I  wonder  if  he  would  care  to 
have  one  ?  I  did  so  wish  to  pin  one  to 
his  breast  this  morning,  the  sweetest  one  I 
could  find,  but  he  didn't  have  time,  and  I — I 
was  afraid  to  bother  him  with  roses  when 
he  had  scarcely  time  to  eat  his  breakfast. 
And  do  you  know  that  I  was  so  fluttered 
and  confused  that  I  utterly  forgot  to  put 
him  up  a  lunch,  and  he  will  have  to  drive 
all  the  way  to  Philippi,  and  make  a  speech 
without  a  morsel  to  eat.  Was  it  not  too 
careless  in  me  ?  " 

1 '  Oh,  no  !  He  is  used  to  it.  He  is  so  ab- 
sorbed in  the  campaign  that  he  hardly 
thinks  of  his  dinner.  He  scarcely  sleeps 
for  pondering  over  his  speeches.  You 
should  hear  him.  I  think  him  perfectly 
splendid." 

' '  Oh,  yes  ;  I  have  heard  him.  I  heard 
him  at  the  City  Hall  the  other  evening. 
Oh  !  I  was  very  proud  of  him  then,  even 
before  he  had  ever  thought  of  poor  stupid 
me.  But  now  let  us  go  to  your  father ;  it 


122  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

will  be  dinner  soon  ;  or,  let  me  show  you 
to  your  room :  will  you  have  one  of  my 
rooms  ? " 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"Then  Betty  shall  wait  upon  you.  You 
will  find  her  a  good  girl.  Nanny,  send  Bet- 
ty up  to  the  lilac  room,"  and  linking  her 
arm  in  the  other's,  she  led  her  away  to  be 
installed  at  home,  and  then  turning  her 
over  to  the  obsequious  care  of  the  grinning 
Betty,  she  hurried  down  to  the  library  to 
look  after  her  father-in-law,  just  as  Sam 
came  in  to  announce  dinner. 

There  were  only  two  guests  with  the 
bride  at  the  wedding  feast,  but  the  table 
would  have  sufficed  for  a  hundred. 

"  Magnificent  !  baronial  in  its  sumptuous- 
ness  ! "  commented  the  Judge,  himself  no 
mean  epicure. 

"  How  pretty,  how  dainty,  how  ex- 
quisite and  nice  !  "  cried  Augusta. 

"Oh,  if  he  only  had  a  portion!"  sighed 
the  bride. 

But  alas  !  He  for  whom  the  fair  bride  was 
so  considerately  sighing,  albeit  dinnerless, 
as  she  feared,  would  have  scarcely  relished 
the  most  tempting  tid-bit  of  the  menu,  had 
it,  in  all  its  profuse  bounty,  been  spread 
before  him,  for,  at  that  precise  moment,  he 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  123 

was  writhing  under  the  merciless  lash  of 
his  opponent's  ribald  satire. 

That  gentleman,  the  Honorable  Thomas 
Lawson,  had,  by  some  "devilish  contrip 
slight"  of  evil  tongue,  heard  of  the  hasty 
marriage  that  morning,  and  further,  by 
some  unhappy  chance,  snatches  of  the  dis- 
graceful bargain  had  been  caught  by  an 
eavesdropper,  and  repeated  to  him  with  ap- 
propriate embellishments,  affording  him  a 
delightful  opportunity  to  display  his  low  wit 
and  to  gratify  a  rankling  spite  against  an 
innocent  lady  at  one  and  the  same  time. 

With  the  satire  of  a  Sheridan,  he  pictured 
a  scion  of  the  aristocracy  exchanging  shoes 
with  a  clodhopper ;  swapping  his  elegant 
pump-soled  boots  for  an  ill-fitting  pair  of 
broad-toed  pegbottoms.  And  then,  again, 
a  proud  young  gentleman,  the  son  of  one  of 
the  most  exclusively  proud  houses  in  the 
State,  posing  on  the  topmost  pinnacle  of 
social  respectability,  and  then  tumbling 
down  ;  to  be  caught  at  the  bottom  in  the 
ready  arms  of  a  parvenu's  daughter  : 

"  Oh,  what  a  luckless  fall  was  there,  my 
countrymen  !  But  not  altogether"  luckless, 
for  be  it  known,  that  though  unmistakably 
pegbottom,  the  girl  is  prunella  vamps  and 
morocco  quarters,  with  silver  tassels  and 


124  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

golden  buckles.  She  weighs  two  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds,  not  counting  chignon  and 
ear-bobs,  at  least  ten  pounds  more,  and  we 
are  reliably  told  that  for  every  pound  of 
'gal'  he  gets  a  pound  of  gold,  with  a 
'nigger'  or  two  *  flung  in,'  a  pretty  fair 
price,  I  should  say,  for  a  son-in-law ;  more, 
in  fact,  than  he  is  worth,  and  for  once  in  his 
life,  Ole  Money-bags  has  been  cheated  at  his 
own  game.  But  what  a  spectacle  !  Capi- 
tolian  society  dancing  a  german  with  pump- 
soles  on  one  foot  and  pegbottoms  on  the 
other  !  A  gander  with  gaffs  on  could  not 
be  more  edifying." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A    COMMON   GRIEVANCE     MAKES     THEM    CLOSE 
OF  KIN. 

THE  appointment  for  the  next  day  was 
at  Graf  ton,  the  county  seat  of  an  adjoining 
county.  The  canvass  was  made  by  the  old- 
fashioned  methods  of  stump-speaking  in 
joint  discussion. 

The  candidates  traveled  the  same  circuit, 
and  when  they  first  started  out  they 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  125 

traveled  together,  but  as  the  campaign  pro- 
gressed and  the  discussions  became  more 
heated,  its  personalities  day  by  day  more 
bitter,  pointed  and  exasperating,  they  soon 
fell  apart,  separating  upon  the  adjournment 
of  one  meeting,  only  to  see  each  other  at  the 
next,  each  traveling  his  own  gait  and  his 
own  road,  without  friendly  speech  or  even 
recognition. 

Up  to  that  day  at  Philippi,  they  had 
maintained  a  polite  mansuetude  toward 
each  other,  but  the  uncalled-for,  far-fetched 
and  grossly  unjust  allusions  to  his  mar- 
riage, and  the  obese  charms  of  his  wife,  as 
false  as  they  were  gross,  had  completely 
destroyed  what  little  had  been  left  of  the 
entente  cordiale  between  them,  and  now,  in- 
stead of  coldly  polite  civilities,  nothing  was 
exchanged  between  them  save  angry  glances 
and  scowls  of  hatred  and  scorn. 

The  programme  for  speaking,  as  were  the 
appointments  themselves,  had  been  made  by 
the  executive  committees  of  the  respective 
parties.  The  speakers  were  to  alternate  in 
opening  and  in  closing.  Lawson  had 
opened  and  closed  at  Philippi.  It  was 
Winston's  turn  to-day  at  Grafton.  An  un- 
usually large  audience  had  gathered  in  the 
court-house,  for  the  fame  of  the  speakers 


126  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

was  spreading  and  the  party  spirit  was  run- 
ning high. 

A  friend  of  each  party  occupied  the  stand, 
and  all  was  presided  over  by  Judge  Crisp,  a 
political  friend  of  one  and  a  warm  personal 
friend  of  the  other. 

Time  was  called  at  12:30,  when  Col.  Black 
in  an  effusive  but  taking  flourish  intro- 
duced :  "The  gallant  standard-bearer  of  the 
great  unterrified,  old-fashioned,  flat-footed, 
square-toed,  peg-bottomed  Democracy  ;  the 
Honorable  David  E.  Winston,  who  will  now 
address  you." 

The  young  orator  arose,  and  after  waiting 
a  moment  for  the  storm  of  applause  that 
greeted  him  to  subside,  commenced  his 
speech  by  a  personal  reference  : 

"  I  am  aware,  my  friends,  and  fellow- 
citizens,"  he  said,  and  they  wondered  a 
little  at  the  hardness  of  his  voice,  "  that  it 
is  in  bad  taste  as  well  as  in  bad  spirit,  for  a 
speaker  to  inject  in  the  discussion  of  ques- 
tions purely  political,  matters  which  apper- 
tain to  his  own  individual  self,  and  with 
which  the  public  can  have  no  possible  con- 
cern. I  grant,  that  when  a  man  is  per- 
sonally unclean,  when  his  private  life  is  such 
as  to  unfit  him  for  a  public  trust ;  when  his 
domestic  relations  are  offensive  to  public 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  127 

morality  and  obnoxious  to  the  peace,  the 
purity  and  the  well-ordering  of  society,  that 
when  such  a  man,  in  defiance  of  all  shame, 
and  defiant  of  public  opinion,  puts  himself 
before  the  people  as  a  candidate  for  their 
suffrages,  he,  with  his  character,  as  well  as 
his  domestic  irregularities,  becomes  a  legiti- 
mate subject  for  public  arraignment,  for 
public  comment,  and  for  public  condemna- 
tion. But  if  a  man  be  not  these ;  if  there 
be  no  taint  of  moral  leprosy  in  his  life,  no 
stain  upon  his  honor,  no  reproach  upon  his 
family,  then  his  private  life  should  be  un- 
touched, his  home  should  be  sacred,  his  wife 
should  be  respected,  and  none  but  a  lying 
tongue,  inspired  by  a  heart  as  rotten  and  as 
cowardly  as  hell  itself,  would  dare  speak 
aught  against  it.  I  am  thus  emphatic,  my 
friends,  because  I  wish  to  give  point  and 
forcible  direction  to  the  proposition.  It  may 
not  concern  you  to  know  that  I  am  a  mar- 
ried man.  I  cannot  conceive  why  it  should, 
unless  the  fact  of  my  being  such  may  fit  or 
unfit  me  for  serving  you  in  a  public  capacity. 
Unless  celibacy  be  a  political  virtue,  I  can- 
not see  what  interest  the  public  can  have  in 
the  fact  of  my  marriage,  or  why  the  per- 
sonal appearance  or  avoirdupois  of  my  wife 
should  be  made  a  feature  in  this  canvass. 


128  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

But  it  seems  that  it  is  to  be.  Yesterday 
morning  I  was  united  in  marriage  to  a  lady, 
not  perhaps  up  to  the  gentleman's  aristo- 
craticst  andard  of  social  worth,  but  at  least 
of  unquestioned  and  unquestionable  repute, 
and  the  announcement  was  not  yet  made  to 
my  friends  when  my,  I  will  not  say  honor- 
able opponent,"  casting  a  glance  of  withering 
scorn  in  the  white  face  of  Lawson,  "was 
quick  to  seize  upon  the  circumstance  as  a 
proper  subject  for  the  display  of  his  gross 
spleen  and  ribald  wit — 

Here  Lawson  interrupted  :  "I  called  no 
names,  sir,  I  only  instanced  a  circumstance 
to  illustrate  a  point,"  he  said  with  a  shabby 
grace. 

"No  ;  you  called  no  names,  because  your 
courage  was  not  equal  to  your  malignant 
spleen.  The  malice  that  winged  the  shaft, 
lacked  the  manliness  to  direct  its  aim  ;  but 
it  needed  no  names ;  the  brutal  and  asinine 
applause  of  your  friends  told  very  plainly 
how  well  it  was  understood.  But  had  it  not 
been,  had  the  prurient  stupidity  of  the  beasts 
failed  to  comprehend  your  indecent  innuendo, 
this  filthy  sheet  here,"  holding  up  a  news- 
paper, still  wet  from  the  press,  ' '  this  cus- 
pidor of  his  political  brothel,  in  which  the 
slime  and  slush  and  dregs  of  the  drunken 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  129 

revel  are  caught,  to  be  dished  out  again  to 
the  moral  swine  that  fattens  upon  such  swill, 
would  have  told  to  whom,  and  to  what  the 
cowardly  allusion  was  made.  This  editor, 
whom  I  see  grinning  before  me,  miserable 
lickspittle  as  he  is,  yet  more  courageous 
than  the  wretch  who  inspired  him,  after  dis- 
playing in  bold-faced  type,  as  a  tempting 
bill  of  fare,  the  ribald  mouthing,  has  the 
boldness  to  fix  it  directly  upon  me  and  mine. 
This  is  what  he  says,  and  I  must  crave 
your  pardon  for  reading  such  rot :  '  The 
announcement  in  another  column  of  the 
marriage  of  the  aristocratic  Mr.  David  E. 
Winston,  son  of  Judge  Winston,  to  Miss 
Hardie,  the  buxom  daughter  of  old  Israel 
Hardie,  a  genuine  pegbottom,  from  Hurri- 
cane Creek,  gives  intelligent  point  to  the 
witty  remarks  made  yesterday,  in  his  speech 
at  Philippi,  by  Hon.  Thomas  B.  Lawson 
as  reported  above.  The  point  can  be  better 
appreciated  when  it  is  known  that  the  con- 
ditions of  the  marriage  settlement  were  pre- 
cisely as  he  stated.  The  aristocratic,  but 
impecunious  groom,  was  to  receive,  as  a 
quid  pro  quo  for  his  social  position,  with  the 
hand  of  his  bride,  a  pound  of  gold  for  every 
pound  of  girl,  with  a  negro  "  flung  in"  with 
every  pound  of  each,  This  mercenary  bar- 


130  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

gain,  so  revolting  to  the  sanctity  of  the  mar- 
riage compact,  was  made  in  the  office  of  Mr. 
Winston,  between  the  woman's  father  and 
the  Judge's  son,  and  was  witnessed  by  the 
Judge  himself.  The  shameful  dicker  was 
overheard  by  more  than  one  listener,  and  its 
truth,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  can  be 
established  beyond  cavil.  Vive  les  pegbot- 
toms  ;  they  are  coming  to  the  front.' 

"Now,  my  friends,  it  is  not  for  myself 
that  I  notice  this  scurrilous  effusion,  but  in 
behalf  of  the  lady,  an  inoffensive  and  un- 
offending lady,  against  the  fair  mirror  of 
whose  pure  womanhood  not  even  a  whisper 
of  scandal  has  ever  been  breathed,  and  whose 
only  offense  is  that  she  is  the  daughter  of  a 
nian  who  was  once  poor,  but  is  now  rich,  a 
man  who  started  life  -at  the  plow,  a  poor 
unlettered  boy,  and  who,  by  industry,  econ- 
omy and  good  judgment  has  been  fortunate 
enough  to  acquire  wealth  ;  not  dishonestly, 
mind  you,  no  insinuation  has  been  made 
against  his  probity,  it  is  only  that  he  is  rich, 
or  rather  that  he  was  once  poor.  I  repeat, 
that  it  is  in  behalf  of  this  lady,  who  is  in 
nowise  responsible  for  my  candidacy,  I  put 
the  gentleman  and  his  friends  and  tools, 
upon  notice,  that  any  further  reference  to 
her,  or  to  her  worthy  father,  during  this  can- 


DAVID  AXD  ABIGAIL.  131 

vass,  shall  be  accepted  by  me  as  a  mortal 
affront  to  be  wiped  out  by  the  heart's  blood 
of  the  dastardly  miscreant  who  dares  to 
make  it.  And  now,  my  fellow-citizens,  beg- 
ging your  pardon  for  this  reference  to  a 
matter  so  aliunde  to  the  issues  of  the  can- 
vass, and  which  is  as  painful  to  myself  as  it 
must  be  nauseating  to  you,  I  shall  address 
myself  to  the  more  pertinent  questions  of 
the  campaign." 

And  with  a  rare  eloquence,  even  in 
those  brave  old  days  of  brilliant  oratory, 
he  plunged  into  the  subject  and  made  one 
of  the  most  telling  speeches  of  the  cam- 
paign. 

Lawson  followed,  but  made  no  allusion  to 
the  subject  of  marriage.  The  tightly  com- 
pressed lips  and  steel-cold  glance  of  the 
young  man  as  he  uttered  the  final  words  of 
warning  told  him  that  it  would  indeed  be 
death  to  one  of  them  for  him  to  do  so.  He 
saw,  too,  the  mistake  that  he  had  made. 
That  the  marriage  of  the  young  aristocrat 
with  one  of  the  "  pegbottoms, "  instead  *of 
being  a  reproach  to  his  prospects,  was  likely 
to  turn  out  a  happy  political  stroke,  as  it 
established  a  kind  of  kinship  with  that  ilk, 
and  the  "  pegbottoms "  were  the  real 
sovereigns. 


132  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

But,  while  the  speakers  were  silent  on  the 
matter,  the  newspapers  took  it  up  and  rang 
its  changes  usque  ad  nauseam. 

And  it  was  through  this  medium  of  cold, 
leaden  type,  that  the  young  wife  first  came 
to  hear  of  it.  Her  interest  in  the  canvass, 
always  alert,  but  now  doubly  so,  made  her 
scan,  with  hungry  eyes,  every  line  that  fell 
under  them,  and  when,  two  days  later,  the 
weekly  "Democratic  Clarion,"  the  political 
vade  mecum  of  her  father's  faith,  was 
brought  in  and  under  the  double-scored 
heading  of  :  "An  Outrage  Against  De- 
cency," she  read  ;  first,  the  editor's  indig- 
nant scorn  and  scathing  protest  against  the 
outrage,  and  then  the  extract  from  the 
"Graf ton  Whig,"  containing  a  verbatim 
report  of  the  cruel  tirade ;  the  announce- 
ment of  the  marriage,  with  the  editor's 
beastly  comments,  and  then  the  "  Clarion's  " 
report  of  her  husband's  reply,  she  could 
hardly  restrain  the  wrath  that  filled  her 
soul  and  fired  every  fiber  of  her  being.  No 
hysterical  sobs  of  shame  and  of  mortified 
pride  moved  her,  but  a  flash  of  livid  anger, 
clinching  her  fists  and  stamping  her  feet  in  a 
frenzy  of  outraged  womanhood. 

"Why,  hunny  !  what  in  the  world's  the 
matter  with  you  ?  Your  eyes  flash  thest 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  133 

likelitening,"  asked  her  father,  in  a  little 
consternation  at  the  cyclonic  indications. 

"  Have  you  read  this  ? " 

"Eh,  no!  In  course  not;  I  allers  gin 
you  the  paper  fust.  What  is  it?  Has 
Lawson  bin  a  woollin'  David  ?  I  'spects  so. 
Thest  read  it  ter  me,  Abby,  my  eyesight 
hain't  so  very  good  this  mornin'." 

"Yes,  I  will  read  it,"  and  in  a  voice  fairly 
tragic  in  its  wrath,  she  read  it  all. 

"Well  !  well  !  well !  mussy  me  !  mussy 
me  !  Who'd  a  thought  hit  of  Lawson  ?  But 
I  ruther  think  as  David  sorter  got  'im  on 
the  home-stretch.  Don't  you?"  brighten- 
ing up  a  little  at  the  consoling  thought. 

"The  niaii  is  a  beast  for  mischief  ;  a  base, 
bad  man,"  she  cried  fiercely.  "And  he  is  a 
congressman !  and  expects  to  be  elected 
again.  Is  it  of  such  miserable  stuff  that  our 
statesmen  are  made  ?  "  she  asked  in  scorn. 

"  Some  on  'em  is.  Some  on  'em  are  made 
ov  monstus  pore  stuff,  I  tells  you.  An'  is 
mighty  slack-twisted  at  that." 

"  It  is  infamous,  the  beast  !  " 

"Yes,  an'  thest  ter  think,  Abby,  that  the 
onnerry  cuss  had  the  brass  ter  come  a  pea- 
vining  around  you,  last  year,  hisseff ;  I 
am  glad  that  you  sot  down  on  'im,  Abby, 
dinged  if  I  hain't," 


134  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Please  don't  speak  of  it,"  with  an  angry 
stamp  of  her  pretty  foot. 

u  Thar,  now  !  you've  busted  your  slipper. 
You  mussent  get  so  mad,  hunny,  the  raskill 
hain't  worth  it.  I  wouldn't  spile  my  shoe 
with  such  as  he  am.  I  wouldn't  even  wipe 
my  shoe  on  'im  if  I  waz  you." 

' '  I  could  grind  my  heel  on  his  forehead. 
I  could  stamp  his  vile,  slanderous  serpent- 
tongue  out,"  making  a  pirouette  upon  an 
imaginary  head. 

"An'  git  your  heel  all  stone-bruised  for 
your  trubble.  No,  hunny,  that  wouldn't 
pay.  You  must  cool  down,  sich  tantrums 
hain't  purty,  you  don't  look  your  natcherell 
seff  at  all.  You's  too  sweet  a  gurrill  ter  be 
soured  by  sich  a  toad.  You  thest  let  'im 
alone  an'  David  'ill  fix  'im.  Do  yer  see  as 
David  has  got  his  brissels  up,  an'  you  may 
thest  bet  yer  bottom  dollar  that  he'll  fetch 
'im  ter  taw." 

"  And  to  think  that  he  should  try  to  hurt 
him  through  me  ? " 

"Yes,  hit  was  mean,  but  then  hit  is 
natcheral.  Bizness  is  bizness,  you  know, 
and  them  pollyticioners  thest  takes  all  the 
underholt  thay  kin  git.  They  don't  mine 
lying  a  bit." 

"  But  he  will  not  lie,  I  know.     He  would 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  135 

scorn  to  do  a  mean  thing,"  she  loyally  pro- 
tested. 

"Yes,  I  thinks  myseff  that  David  is  plum' 
square.  But,  Abby,  tell  me,  what  is  a  she- 
non,  anyhow.  Is  it  very  bad  ? "  lowering 
his  voice  to  a  confidential  whisper. 

"  A  chignon  is  a  horrid  bunch  of  false  hair, 
that  some  ladies  wear  as  their  own.  You 
know  that  I  never  wore  such  a  thing  in  my 
life?" 

"  I  should  say  not,  seein'  as  how  you  have 
more  already  than  I  would  like  to  tote.  An' 
so  that  was  all  the  'bominal  fool  meant  ter 
say  by  shenon.  I  was  effeered  hit  was  some- 
thing bad  that  he  was  a  trying  ter  fling  up 
ter  you.  If  that  waz  all,  Abby,  I  don't 
know  as  if  I  waz  you  as  I  would  care  for  hit 
at  all.  .  Hit  can't  hurt  you." 

"  No,  it  cannot  hurt  me,  but  oh  !  how  it 
must  have  hurt  him  !  " 

"Hit  will  hurt  'im  afore  David  gits 
through  with  'im." 

"  But  it  was  him,  David,  I  meant." 

"Eh  !  was  it  ?  Well,  yes,  no  hit  will  not 
hurt  David,  nuther,  fer  I  tells  you  what's  a 
fac' :  the  peg-bottoms  is  a  gwine  ter  take  this 
thing  up,  yer  mine  me  if  thay  hain't.  Thay 
is  monstus  touchy,  the  pegbottoms,  is,  you 
thes  see  zif  they  don't  put  David  square  in. 


136  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

Yer  see,  Abby,  the  most  ov  we-uns  is  peg- 
bottoms,  an'  when  the  pumpsoles  begin  ter 
step  on  our  toes  then  we  thes  begin  ter  kick. 
Did  you  see  how  slick  David  turned  the  joke 
on  'im  ?  thar  whar  he  sez  that  'bout  the  pore 
boy  plowin'.  I  wish  he'd  a  sed  as  I  waz  a 
plowin'  a  bull-yearlin' ;  that  would  a  took. 
Tliar's  nothing  like  plowin'  a  bull-yearlin' 
ter  start  a  man  ter  congress  on.  Hit  thes 
made  Joe  Brown  guv'nor  ov  Gorgy.  Read 
that  again,  Abby  ;  that's  moustus  good  read- 
in',  an'  I  loves  ter  hear  hit. "  * 

The  irate  young  lady  read  the  paragraph 
again,  and  had  her  anger  allowed  her  to  con- 
fess it,  she  felt  a  little  pride  herself  in  the 
honest  tribute  so  frankly  paid  to  the  sterling 
worth  of  her  father. 

"  That's  bully,  an'  I'll  thes  bet  you  the 
finest  thoroughbred  mare  in  Kaintucky  that 
hit  thes  lays  the  wax  on  Tom  Lawson. 
David  is  'lected,  thes  as  shore  az  falling  off 
a  log.  An'  what  iz  that  he  sez  'bout  you, 
Abby  ?  Sumthin'  'bout  the  lookin'-glass  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes!  I  will  read  it:  'Now,  my 
friends  it  is  not  for  myself  that  I  notice  this, 
but  in  behalf  of  the  lady,  an  inoffensive  and 
unoffending  lady,  against  the  fair  mirror 
of  whose  womanhood  no  whisper,  even  of 
slander  has  ever  been  breathed,  aud  whose 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  137 

only  sin  is  that  her  father  was  once  poor  and 
now  is  rich. ' ' 

"  Yes  ;  I  sees  now,  an'  hits  mighty  nice, 
Abby.  I  thinks  as  how  you  orter  be  monstus 
proud  ov  David  ;  monstus  proud  ! " 

' '  Oh  !  I  am  proud  of  him,  and  shall  always 
bless  him  for  his  brave,  manly  words  spoken 
for  me  ;  for  me  and  for  you,  father  !  Ah  ! 
here  comes  Augusta  ;  I  wonder  if  she  has 
seen  this  !  "  as  the  door  opened  and  Nanny 
ushered  that  young  lady  in. 

"  Yes,  in  course  she  has  ;  don't  ye  see  she's 
blowed  up,  fit  ter  pop  ?  Here  ;  lem-me  slip 
out ;  I  never  could  stand  a  'umman  in  the 
tantrums,  an'  I  thes  sees  the  ole  Nick  in  ther 
way  her  bonnit  sets  !  I'll  go  an'  talk  ter  the 
Jedge  an'  see  what  he  sez  about  hit."  And 
without  waiting  for  his  hat,  the  old  gentle- 
man dashed  through  the  rear  door,  just  in 
time  to  escape  the  explosion  that  came  pop- 
ping from  the  surcharged  lips  of  the  indignant 
young  lady. 

"  Oh  !  Grace,  Grace  !  I  have  come  to  tell 
you ;  I  am  just  too  mad  for  anything,  and 
I  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer.  Here  !  have 
you  seen  this  nasty  thing  ? " 

' '  In  the  Clarion,  you  mean  ? " 

"Yes;  that  miserable  stuff!  Oh!  the 
mean  wretch  !  I  could  positively  claw  him. 


138  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

Oh  !  if  I  was  only  a  man  !  How  I  do  wish  I 
was  a  man  ;  I  would  call  the  beast  out  and 
shoot  him  like  a  dog.  I  am  ashamed  of 
brother  Dave  that  he  hasn't  done  it.  I 
would  have  shot  him  on  the  spot.  Don't  it 
make  you  sick  to  think  of  it  ? " 

"  Yes;  I  was  very  angry  at  first,  and,  I 
fear,  made  an  exhibition  of  myself.  See  here ; 
I  have  stamped  my  slipper  into  tatters.  It 
is  hopelessly  ruined,"  putting  out  her  foot  and 
displaying  the  demoralized  slipper.  "  Here, 
Nanny ;  take  it  away  and  bring  my  boots. 
And  now,  Augusta  ;  have  a  seat ;  let  us  sit 
down  and  talk  it  all  over  and  try  not  to  mind 
it  so  much.  Of  course  it  was  contemptible 
and  mean,  and  I  do  know  that  it  sorely 
wounded  your  brother.  Ah  !  that  the  wretch 
should  try  to  wound  him,  through  me  ;  I 
who  would  of  havecut  my  right  arm  to  have 
shielded  him  from  any  hurt ;  it  is  too  bad, 
too  bad  ! "  and  if  the  demolished  slipper  had 
not  been  safe  in  the  caressing  hand  of 
Nanny,  who  was  vainly  trying  to  smooth  it 
into  shape  again,  it  would  have  suffered 
another  martyrdom,  for,  in  spite  of  her  phil- 
osophical purpose  to  sit  down  and  talk  it  all 
over  without  minding  it,  the  thought  of  the 
hurt  put  upon  him,  the  man  whom  her 
tender  fancy  had  already  apotheosized  into  a 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  139 

divinity,  filling  her  life  with  its  completeness 
of  adoration,  becoming  not  only  its  lord  and 
master  but  its  idol  as  well,  was  so  outrageous 
that  the  loyal  blood  had  to  boil  over  again, 
and  the  sympathetic  feet  had  to  fairly  dance 
in  impotent  rage.  Next  to  the  frantic  capers 
of  an  angry  child  there  is  nothing  so  charm- 
ingly vigorous  as  the  sudden  wrath  of  a 
pretty  woman. 

Miss  Winston,  already  surcharged,  began 
to  pop,  too  ;  the  explosions  coming  out  in 
little  sparks  and  flashes. 

"I  wis — wis — wish  we — we  ha-had  him 
here  ;  we  would  make — make  Jake  hold  him, 
an — and  I — I — I  would  cow — cowhi — hide 
him  ;  wouldn't  you  ? " 

"It  was  so  mean  in  him  to  try  to  wound 
him,"  said  Abigail,  a  little  timidly,  as  if 
some  apology  was  needed  for  the  unseemli- 
ness of  their  tempers. 

"  To  wound  him  ?  No,  darling,  it  was  you 
he  struck  ;  the  cowardly  whelp,  to  strike  a 
woman  !  Why  should  he  wish  to  hurt  you  ? " 

"Oh,  no,  not  me  !  it  was  him  he  tried  to 
kill.  He  could  not  hurt  me ;  it  was  only 
him." 

"  But  he  cannot  hurt  brother  David ; 
everybody  knows  that  he  is  incapable  of 
doing  a  mean  thing." 


140  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  perhaps  the  wretch 
thought  that  he  loved  me,  and  that  by  ridic- 
uling me  he  could  hurt  him.  But  wasn't  it 
ridiculous,  though,  the  idea  of  me  weighing 
two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  and  wearing 
ear-bobs  and  a  chignon !  How  could  he 
ever  think  of  such  an  absurd  thing  ? " 

"Oh,  because  his  own  wife  wears  them, 
I'll  be  bound.  And  besides,  the  wretch  is 
mean  enough  for  anything.  But,  did  he 
ever  see  you  ? " 

"One  should  imagine  not,  from  the  de- 
scription he  gives  of  me  ;  but  for  all  that,  he 
has  seen  me." 

"Ah  !  And  could  he  condescend  to  waste 
a  glance  on  you  ? " 

"It  was  a  condescension,  to  be  sure  ;  but 
he  was  gracious  enough  to  make  it.  And, 
Augusta,  I  ought  not  to  tell  it,  but  to  show 
you  the  full  depth  of  the  creature's  mean- 
ness, I  will  tell  you  ;  only,  Augusta,  you 
must  first  promise  me  that  you  will  never, 
never  breathe  a  single  syllable  of  it  to  mor- 
tal ear,  not  even  to  your  brother's.  Will 
you  promise  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  promise.     Do  tell  me." 

"  Upon  your  life  ?" 

"Yes,  upon  my  life.  I  won't  even  tell 
Walter." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  141 

"Then,  would  you  believe  it?  This  man, 
who  now  speaks  so  cruelly  of  me,  once 
—once,  only  last  year,  a  few  weeks  before 
he  married  the  Widow  Tuppin,  had  the  con- 
ceit to — to  ask  me — me  to — to  marry 
him- 

"Oh!  Grace,  Grace!"  in  incredulous 
amazement. 

"Yes,  it  is  true.  I  do  not  speak  of  it 
boastingly,  for  somehow  I  never  considered 
it  a  matter  to  be  proud  of  ;  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, it  always  brought  an  uneasy  feeling, 
nearly  akin  to  humiliation." 

"  And  you  refused  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  refused  him.  But  I  see  that  you 
are  still  incredulous.  I  am  telling  you  the 
truth.  I  have  his  letter  yet,  asking  me  to 
be  his  wife.  Somehow  I  have  neglected  to 
destroy  it,  or  to  send  it  back  to  him.  Would 
you  care  to  see  it  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  wish  ever  so  much  to  see  it ; 
and  if  it  is  like  you  say,  I  should  wish  to 
confront  him  with  it,  that  it  might  choke 
back  the  vile  slander  he  has  put  upon  you, 
and  upon  my  brother." 

"No,  I  could  not  do  that ;  but  I  can  show 
it  to  you,  only  it  must  go  no  further. 
Come,  go  with  me  to  my  room  and  I  will  let 
you  see  it."  And  leading  the  way  to  her 


142  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

room,  she  unlocked  her  escritoire  and  found 
the  letter.  "  Here,  read  it,  and  then  we  will 
burn  it." 

Augusta,  with  impatient  curiosity,  took 
the  missive  and  read  : 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  HARDIE  :  I  leave  for  Washington,  to- 
morrow, but  before  I  go  I  must  put  an  end  to  the  sweet 
suspense  with  which  I  have  been  so  idly  dallying,  by  ask- 
ing you  to  be  my  wife.  I  presume,  and  trust,  that  the  at- 
tentions I  have  shown  you  may  have  prepared  you  for  this 
declaration,  and  that  no  further  probation  is  needed  to  as- 
sure you  of  the  sincerity  of  my  proposal.  I  may  further 
hope  that  you  will  not  let  any  exaggerated  appreciation  of 
my  high  position  in  society,  nor  morbid  depreciation  of 
your  own  status,  embarrass  you  in  your  answer.  What  you 
lack  in  social  prestige  I  can  fully  and  freely  make  up.  As 
my  wife  you  may  rightfully  claim  an  entrance  to  the  high- 
est circles,  not  only  in  this  city  and  State,  but  in  the  still 
more  aristocratic  court  of  Washington  itself.  I  feel  that 
you  would  acquit  yourself  worthy  of  either,  and  I  should 
not  hesitate  to  introduce  you. 

"I  send  this  by  the  hand  of  my  confidential  servant,  and 
shall  impatiently  expect  an  answer  by  the  same  trusty 
hand.  Hoping  that  it  may  be  favorable,  and  that  I  may  be 
permitted  to  call  this  evening  to  receive  from  your  own 
sweet  lips  an  oral  confirmation  of  the  troth  that  is  to  make 
me  the  happiest  of  mortals,  I  subscribe  myself  your  most 
faithful,  true  and  devoted  lover, 

"  THOMAS  BOYKIN  LAWSON,  M.  C. 

"  To  Miss  GKACE  A.  HARDIE, 

"240  Colbert  Avenue." 

"Well,  well,  well  !  Who  ever  heard  of 
such  a  thing  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  lady  in 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  143 

amused  astonishment,  as  she  finished  the 
amorous  epistle.  "And  this  is  from  the 
man  who  said  such  ugly  things  about  you  ? 
But  how  did  you  answer  him  ? " 

"  I  was  amused  at  the  man's  egotism,  but 
I  did  not  answer  him  according  to  his  folly  ; 
I  simply  declined  his  offer." 

"  Egotism  !  Why  I  never  before  in  all 
my  life,  heard  of  such  egregious  self-con- 
ceit. But  what  did  you  say  ? " 

"I  kept  no  copy  of  my  answer;  I  only 
wrote  a  curt  little  note,  telling  him  that  he 
need  not  call.  I  fear  that  I  forgot  to 
even  thank  him  for  his  wonderful  condescen- 
sion. And  perhaps  it  was  my  laches  in 
gratitude,  still  rankling  in  his  mind,  which 
provoked  his  savage  philippic." 

"  And  he  bothered  you  no  more  ? " 

"  Oh,  no.  Luckily  he  had  another  string 
to  his  bow,  and  was  married  the  very  next 
week  to  the  wealthy  widow  Turpin,  and  I 
never  saw  him  any  more  again  until  the 
other  evening  at  the  City  Hall,  when  he 
failed  to  recognize  me.  But  here,  Augusta, 
give  me  the  letter  and  let  me  burn  it,  and 
with  its  ashes  let  all  memory  of  his  cow- 
ardly perfidy  go." 

"I  wish  brother  David  could  see  it," 
reluctantly  giving  it  up. 


144  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Oh,  no;  I  should  be  ashamed  for  him 
ever  to  know." 

"But  he  should  know,  that  he  might  hoist 
him  with  his  own  petard. " 

"No,  no.  If  I  could,  I  should  ask  him 
never  to  notice  the  miserable  wretch  again. 
And  I,  I  shall  put  it  all  away  too  ;  only  I 
shall  never  forget  to  love  him  for  his  brave 
words  so  gallantly  spoken  in  my  behalf, 
never,  never,  never.  And  now  Augusta,  see 
how  easy  a  thing  it  is  to  make  ashes  of  an 
unpleasant  memory, "  taking  the  letter  and 
putting  it  in  the  flames,  for  a  cheery  fire  of 
odorous  sassafras  blazed  upon  the  hearth, 
filling  the  room  with  a  delightful  perfume 
as  well  as  a  genial  warmth.  Few,  even  of 
our  most  luxuriant  epicures  know  the  deli- 
cious fragrance  of  a  sassafras  fire.  It  is  one 
of  the  luxuries  that  the  pegbottoms,  can 
only  enjoy. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  145 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE     ISSUE     JOINED,      PUMPSOLES     VS.      PEG- 
BOTTOMS. 

"  Well,  Jedge,  haz  ye  seed  the  Clarion  f  " 
asked  Mr.  Hardie,  as  he  found  the  Judge, 
with  a  wearied  look  on  his  countenance,  sit- 
ting in  his  office. 

"Yes,  and  I  am  very  sorry." 

"Yes,  hit's  purty  tite  on  me  an'  Abby, 
but  I  reckon  as  David  'bout  got  even  with 
1m." 

"It  is  infamous.  Has  your  daughter 
seen  it  ? " 

"Yes,  an'  she's  thest  as  mad  as  an  ole 
settin'  hen.  I  tell's  yer  what's  a  fac',  Jedge, 
I  candly  b'lieve  if  that  feller  had  been  a  thar, 
he'd  a  got  his  hair  pulled." 

"It  is  enough  to  outrage  all  her  womanly 
feelings. " 

"Yes  ;  but  she's  sorter  cooled  down  now, 
an'  when  she  read  the  nice  things  as  David 
sed  'bout  her,  she  kinder  hauled  in  her  horns 
an'  was  a  fixin'  up  ter  cry  when  yer  darter 
came  in." 
9 


146  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Ah,  Augusta  is  with  her,  then  ?" 

"Yes  ;  an'  she's  purty  ashy  too  ;  I  seed  hit 
in  her  eyes,  an'  I  seed  hit  warn't  no  place 
fer  a  one-eyed  man,  so  I  thest  slipped  outen 
the  back  door  an'  thort  I'd  come  an'  talk  ter 
you  'bout  hit." 

"I  can  only  say,  Mr.  Hardie,  that  I  am 
very  sorry.  It  was  an  unmanly,  ill-natured 
thing  for  Lawson  to  do,  and  I  regret  exceed- 
ingly that  he  ever  did  it.  I  cannot  imagine 
why  he  should  have  stooped  to  such  a  con- 
temptible thing." 

"Well  mebby  he  thinks  as  everything  iz 
fair  in  'lectioneerin',  same  as  hit  iz  in  war. 
An'  mebby  hit  is  too,  an'  we'll  see  zif  we 
can't  feed  'im  back  off  'era  the  same  nubbin'. 
An'  I  'tends  ter  do  hit  too  ;  I  'tends  ter  pitch 
in  an'  see  that  David  beats  the  hine-sites  of- 
fen  the  measly  raskil,  if  hit  takes  a  thou- 
sand dollars  a  vote  ter  do  hit.  He  went  an' 
lambasted  the  pegbottoms,  thest  fer  spite, 
an'  I'll  let  'im  know  that  the  pegbottoms 
is  able  ter  tote  thay  own  skillit.  I'm  a 
pegbottom  myself,  I  is,  an'  so  are-  Abby, 
an'  you  thest  bet  your  sickest  nigger,  that 
the  pegbottoms  'ill  mash  sumthin'  when 
they  all  stomp  down  tergether." 

"Oh,  no,  Mr.  Hardie,  we  cannot  afford  to 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  147 

employ  such  a  disgraceful  family  scandal  to 
further  our  personal  interest." 

"Yes,  but  thar's  no  scaiidill  'bout  hit, 
'ceptin'  them  lies  as  he  tole  on  Abby,  an' 
they  hain't  so  bad,  now,  sense  Abby  splained 
ter  me  'bout  the  shignon,  fer  that's  all  a 
bare  neckid  lie,  as  David  can  see  for  his- 
self  when  he  gits  home.  Thar  hain't  a  sin- 
gle hair  'bout  Abby  as  hain't  a  shore  anuff 
hair." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  know,  and  so  far  as  you  and 
Abigail  are  concerned,  no  possible  reproach 
can  attach.  It  is  the  damning  charge  of  a 
mercenary  bargain,  he  brings  against  my 
son,  that  hurts." 

"Yes,  but  that's  all  a  lie  too,  an'  you 
knows  hit." 

"  Alas,  it  has  color  of  truth  ;  some  infam- 
ous eavesdropper  must  have  overheard  your 
reference  to  your  daughter's  weight  in  gold, 
you  remember  the  unfortunate  lapse  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  did  say  hit, "  quickly  interrupting, 
"an'  I  sticks  ter  hit.  I  sed  Abby  waz  worth 
her  weight  in  gold,  an'  the  man  as  gits  her 
will  git  hit  with  a  nigger  flung  in  with 
every  pound.  An'  I  means  thest  perzactly 
what  I  sez  ;  but  I  doan't  means  by  hit  that  I 
waz  a  buying  nor  a  hiring  your  son  ter  take 
her  off  my  han's.  I  wanted  him  fer  her 


148  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

bekaze  I  liked  'ira,  an'  I  knowed  they  would 
make  a  good  match.  An'  as  fer  Abby,  she 
waz  willin',  kaze  she  wanted  ter  please  me, 
an'  asides  she  waz  sorter  kinder  stuck  on 
'im  herseff.  She  had,  unbeknowns't  ter 
him,  seed  'im  at  the  speekin'  an'  I  seed  as 
she  was  a  kinder  hankering  that  way,  an' 
that  was  why  I  come  ter  see  you,  an'  see  if 
we  couldn't  sorter  fix  up  ter  git  them  to- 
gether ;  I  hed  no  noshun,  Jedge  ov  sellin' 
my  darter,  nor  ov  buyin'  your  son ;  you 
mussent  think  hit,  sir,  kaze  hits  a  no  such  a 
thing,  an'  yer  mussent  do  hit." 

"  No,  Mr.  Hardie,  since  I  have  known 
Abigail  I  can  readily  acquit  you  both  of  any 
such  design  ;  but  I  must  be  frank  with  you 
and  confess  that  such  was  my  first  interpre- 
tation of  your  proposition.  It  was  that, 
sir,  that  caused  me  to  repel  it  with  such 
scorn." 

"Yes,  I  sees,  an'  I'ze  afeered  as  David 
thinks  that  way  too." 

"Yes  ;  unhappily  he  does,  and  now,  I 
fear  this  miserable  thing  will  still  more 
embitter  his  mind  against  it. " 

"  You  must  tell  'im  better,  Jedge.  You 
must  write  ter  him  an'  let  'im  know.  Hit 
warn't  thest  ter  git  shet  ov  Abby  that  I 
wanted  her  ter  marry  David.  She  had 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  149 

plenty  ov  other  chances.  An'  I'll  tell  ye, 
Jedge,  on  the  sly  like,"  lowering  his  voice 
into  a  confidential  whisper,  "  but  you  mus- 
sent  ever  let  Abby  know  a  thing  about  it  ; 
but  this  very  little  smarty,  Tom  Lawson 
come  a  pea-vinin'  around  her  an'  axed 
Abby  ter  marry  him " 

"  Impossible  !  " 

"  Yes,  but  he  did  fer  a  fac'.  Hit  was 
thest  sickening  ter  see  the  way  he  put  on  his 
big  airs  around  her.  But,  Jedge,  yer  orter 
thest  seed  how  flat  she  smashed  him  when 
she  sot  down  upon  'im — 

"  Sat  down  upon  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  mashed  'im  flatener  than  a  pan- 
cake. No  wonder  he  thort  she  waide  two 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds." 

"  I  do  not  understand  ? " 

"  Wy  kicked  'im,  man.  She  thest  ups 
with  her  foot  an'  sent  'im  a  windin'.  She 
wouldent  a  wiped  her  shoe  on  '  im,  I  don't 
care  zif  they  is  pegbottoms.  I  was  rite 
glad,  I  waz,  fer  I  didn't  like  'im  at  all.  He 
allers  waz  a  whig." 

"  And  you  tell  me  seriously  that  Lawson 
addressed  your  daughter  ? " 

"  Courted  Abby,  yer  means  ?  Yes,  that 
waz  thest  what  he  done,  but  she  hed  too 
much  sense  ter  bother  long  with  his  sort, 


150  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

an'  she  told  him  to  go  summers  else,  an'  he 
went,  an'  the  verry  nex'  week  he  went  an' 
roped  in  the  ole  Widder  Tuppin.  An'  Jedge, 
I  tells  yer  what  hit  is,  it  is  that  what's  the 
matter  with  Hanner.  He's  mad  yit  kaze  she 
kicked  'im,  an'  David  hez  got  her,  an'  ter 
pay  'em  back  he  started  them  lies  'bout  her 
waying  two  hundred  an'  fifty  pounds,  an' 
wearin'  false  hair.  Why,  the  lyin'  'raskill 
had  mout  as  well  a  'cused  her  ov  havin'  a 
wooden  leg,  an'  a  glass  eye.  I  tells  yer 
what's  a  fac'  Jedge,  I  had  ter  talk  mity  saft 
to  her,  to  keep  'er  fom  bilein'  over,  fer  az 
shore'ze  yer  born,  that  thing  sticks.  You 
may  'cuse  a  gurrill  ov  annything  else,  but 
when  hit  comes  ter  'cusing  'em  ov  paintin' 
or  stuffin'  their  buzzoms  with  cotton,  or 
wearin'  false  hair,  when  she  don't,  yer  thest 
gits  yer  head  in  a  hornit's  nest.  He  drapped 
his  tater  thar,  an'  I  'tends  ter  make  the 
lyin'  raskill  wish  he'd  a  bin  borned  dum 
afore  he  ever  sed  it. " 

"I  think  it  best,  Mr.  Hardie,  to  drop  the 
matter  where  it  is,  as  quietly  as  possible. " 

"In  course,  I  hain't  a  gwine  ter  make  a 
big  blow  about  hit,  but  I'ze  thest  a  gwine 
ter  move  round  'mungst  the  pegbottoms 
an'  if  we  thest  don't  knoc'  the  socks  off'en 
the  gentleman  you  may  shoot  me  for  a 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  151 

'possum.  I'm  a  gwine  ter  go  over  in  Sain'- 
Clair  an'  buy  a  pare  ov  pegbottom  shoes 
fer  every  blamed  little  tow-head  in  the 
county  an'  I'll  tell  'thar  mammys  what's  its 
for,  an'  ef  they  don't  make  it  warm  for  ole 
Miss  Tuppin's  little  man,  then  I  don't  know 
nuthin'  'bout  'uman  nater.  An'  now, 
Jedge,  I  wants  yer  to  write  ter  David  an' 
tell  'im  thest  how  it  stands.  I've  bin  a 
studdyin'  mity  serious  'bout  hit  fer  the  last ' 
night  er  so,  an'  I  begins  ter  feel  a  little 
jubus  'bout  the  way  things  looks.  'Splain 
hit  all  ter  'im,  Jedge,  thest  perzactly  az  hit 
iz." 

"  I  am  going  myself  to-morrow  to  join 
him.  I  am  apprehensive  of  trouble  between 
them,  or  their  friends.  The  personal  bitter- 
ness of  the  discussion  will  lead  to  a  serious 
rencontre  unless  it  is  stopped.  I  have  seen 
the  executive  committee  of  both  parties,  and 
they  agree  that  all  further  personalities 
must  be  eliminated  from  the  discussion.  It 
must  be  stopped  or  they  will  be  shooting 
each  other's  heads  off.  Both  committees 
have  so  agreed  and  so  instructed.  And  as 
for  this  unfortunate  scandal,  I  sincerely 
wish,  Mr.  Hardie,  that  you  will  let  it  rest." 

"  As  I  tells  yer,  I  don't  spect  ter  make  a 
blowin'  horn  ov  it,  nor  to  stir  up  a  fuss,  but 


152  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

I'm  thest  a  gwine  ter  do  my  level  best  ter 
beat  this  sneakin'  raskill.  I'm  gwine  ter 
show  'im  that  hit  ain't  healthy  fer  a  two 
hundred  and  fifty-pound  pegbottom  ter  set 
down  on  a  pot-stum'micked  Jake  like  tiim. 
Humph  !  the  idee  ov  sich  a  gurrill  as  Abby 
wareing  a  passel  ov  tuther  fokeses  hair  ;  I 
tells  ye,  Jedge,  thar's  whar  hit  hurts. " 

f '  Yes  ;  but  we  who  love  her  know  that  it 
is  false  and  can  afford  to  laugh  at  it.  We 
need  not  care  what  others  think.  My 
greatest  anxiety  now,  is  for  David." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  David  ;  he'll  know  when 
he  comes  home  an'  fines  out.  Abby's  all  rite, 
an'  don't  yer  go  ter  botherin'  David  'bout 
her,  but'  thest  sic'  'im  on  the  fight.  What  I 
wants  is  fer  'im  ter  wallup  this  Mr.  Smarty. 
Ole  Munny-bags  ;  humph  !  I'll  make  'im  wish 
as  he'd  never  hearn  tell  ov  a  munny-bag. 
You  tell  David  ter  thest  draw  on  the  Bank 
fer  all  the  munny  he  wants,  an  let  the  ole 
widder  Tuppin  see  his  bline  if  she  wants  ter.. 
An  now  I  reckon  I'd  best  git  back  home  an' 
see  if  the  gurrills  is  tore  the  house  down. 
I'm  jubus  that  they  haz.  I'm  glad  as  I 
talked  ter  you,  Jedge,  an'  be  shore  yer  don't 
forgit  ter  tell  David  that  I  never  in  all  my 
born  days  thought  ov  sich  a  thing  as  selling 
my  darter.  Good-bye  ;  "  and  with  a  cordial 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  153 

shake    of    the    hands  the  two    gentlemen 
parted. 

By  sunrise  the  next  morning  Judge  Win- 
ston, in  a  buggy  behind  a  spanking  team, 
was  driving  across  the  country  to  intercept 
the  itinerant  campaigners.  The  canvass, 
after  sweeping  the  south,  had  swung 
around  to  the  western  part  of  the  district, 
and  by  a  hard  day's  driving  the  Judge  found 
himself  at  night,  within  easy  reach  of  Gos- 
port,  the  appointed  place  of  meeting  for  the 
next  day. 

After  a  nearly  breakfast,  he  was  on  his 
way.  The  gathering  hosts  of  bronze-faced, 
hard-handed  voters,  who  came  pouring 
down  the  hills  and  up  the  valleys,  by  bridle- 
path and  carriage-road,  filling  the  broad 
highway  with  dust  and  noisy  confusion,  as 
he  pushed  on  his  way,  told  what  a  lively 
interest  these  rural  sovereigns  felt  in  the 
coming  election,  and  despite  its  humiliating 
reflection,  it  was  an  encouraging  sign  to 
hear  the  lusty  slogan;  "Hooray  fer  the 
pegbottoms,"  as  group  met  group  in  the 
gathering  stream. 

It  seemed  that  the  sneering  witticism  of 
Lawson  at  Phillippi,  had  been  accepted  as  a 
grave  issue  and  instead  of  whiggery  or  de- 
mocracy, high  tariff  or  free  trade,  State's 


154  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

rights  or  centralization,  the  one  grand,  all- 
absorbing  issue  upon  which  the  fate  of  the 
universe  depended  was  pumpsole  or  peg- 
bottom.  The  fastidious  Judge  felt  a  little 
ashamed  of  the  connection,  but  for  all  that 
there  was  a  comfortable  enthusiasm  in  the 
boisterous  unanimity  of  the  pegbottom 
huzza. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  court-house  he 
found  his  son  busied  with  the  county  ex- 
ecutive committee.  After  the  introduction 
and  exchange  of  friendly  civilities,  the  matter 
of  the  canvass  was  resumed. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  boys  ;  we  have  got 
them  on  the  hip.  This  thing  takes  like  hot 
cakes  and  is  spreading  like  wild-fire.  Three 
days  ago  it  was  all  the  other  way  ;  as  I 
wrote  you,  Winston,  I  should  have  been  will- 
ing to  give  them  three  hundred  majority,  in 
this  county,  but  they  only  laughed  at  the 
concession  ;  nothing  short  of  four  hundred 
would  satisfy  them,  but  now  the  thing  has 
turned  and  they  are  the  sickest  roosters  you 
ever  saw.  We  will  carry  the  county, 
without  a  doubt.  You  see,  old  man  Hardie 
was  one  of  the  pioneers  of  this  county,  and 
was  married  upon  Hurricane,  and  he  has 
always  stuck  to  his  people.  There  is  not  a 
church  in  the  county,  nor  school-house 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  155 

either  that  he  did  not  help  to  build  ;  even 
the  church  we  speak  in  to-day  was  largely 
paid  for  by  him." 

"  Yes,"  spoke  in  another,  "  and  last  year 
when  the  frost  destroyed  all  the  wheat  he 
sent  hundreds  of  bushels  of  seed  for  the 
poor.  They  all  know  him  and  they  will  all, 
to  a  man,  vote  for  you,  whigs,  though  they 
be." 

"Yes,  the  pegbottoms  are  on  top  and 
don't  you  forget  it  !"  burst  in  another,  "  only 
listen  now,"  turning  and  raising  the  win- 
dow. "  There  comes  the  Hurricane  delega- 
tion now ;  all  solid  pegbottoms  and  yet 
Hurricane  is  the  strongest  whig  beat  in  the 
county  !  Listen  !  '  Hurray  f er  the  peg- 
bottom  ! '  Ah  !  boys,  we  are  solid.  Lawson 
dropped  his  candy  when  he  tackled  the  peg- 
bottoms.  Winston,  you  must  ride  him  on 
that  to-day." 

"  Ah,  no  !  I  cannot  do  such  a  thing.  It 
is  too  humiliating.  I  wish  the  whole  thing 
could  be  wiped  out,"  answered  the  young 
man  with  a  flush  of  shame. 

' '  Well,  I  don't.  It's  the  luckiest  thing  that 
ever  happened  for  you,  and  for  us.  It 
elects  you  most  assuredly,  and  I  think  we 
can  hold  them  on  the  county  ticket." 

"I  think  that  quite  likely;  but  I  had 
rather  been  beaten  than  to  have  had  this 


156  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

iron  thrust  in  my  soul  ;  and  if  you  please, 
gentlemen,  we  will  dismiss  it.  You  must  not 
expect  me  to  employ  such  a  reproachful 
argument  ;  to  parade  my  own  infamy  as  a 
badge  of  martyrdom,"  he  answered,  firmly. 

"Of  course  you  need  not  refer  to  your 
own  connection ;  but  you  just  curry  down 
the  pegbottoms.  To  be  sure  it  would  be  in 
bad  taste  for  you  to  allude  to  your  family 
affairs,  but  you  can  let  them  know  what  a 
dignity  there  is  in  labor,  and  what  a  glori- 
ous thing  it  is  to  be  a  free,  independent, 
horny-handed  pegbottom." 

"That  I  shall  do,  and  do  it  conscientiously 
as  I  have  always  done,  for  all  my  sym- 
pathies are  really  with  the  rural  workers  of 
the  land,  not  the  bread-winners  only,  but  the 
bread-makers,  as  well ;  and  I  think,  gentle- 
men, without  affectation,  that  I  should  be 
willing  to  exchange  places  with  the  most  de- 
spised one  of  them  all,  who  may  hear  me  to- 
day." 

"Very  well;  you  just  do  that.  Sugar- 
coat  the  rural  sovereign  from  stem  to  stern, 
and  let  Lawson  spout  as  much  as  he  pleases 
about  the  esoteric  principles  of  constitu- 
tional law ;  the  ancient  glories  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  of  Hannibal  and  of  Julius  Caesar,  of 
Cromwell  and  of  Napoleon,  these  fellows 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  157 

don't  care  a  fiddler's  cuss  about  such  things  ; 
but  you  just  come  down  to  '  craps '  and 
colts,  and  the  nice  little  cottage  with  the 
smoke  so  gracefully  curling,  and  a  fire  full 
of  yam  'taters,'  then  you  strike  a  tender 
chord  that  always  responds." 

"  Yes  !  that  is  legitimate,  and  I  shall  use 
it,"  answered  Winston,  and  the  caucus  was 
ended. 

But  while  this,  the  democratic  caucus  was 
in  such  harmonious  and  satisfactory  session, 
Lawson  was  closeted  with  his  own  com- 
mittee, uneasily  discussing  the  gravity  of 
the  situation. 

"Yes!  I  made  a  mistake,"  he  confessed, 
with  a  grin,  after  the  damaging  effect  of  his 
laches  had  been  laid  before  him,  with  its  im- 
pending consequences.  "  It  was  a  mistake  ; 
but  the  infernal  fools  didn't  understand 
my  meaning.  It  wasn't  at  the  pegbottoms, 
the  girl  and  her  parvenue  father,  I  was 
striking,  but  at  this  aristocratic  'kid,  the 
pumpsoled  exquisite,  who,  for  the  sake  of 
the  woman's  gold,  stooped  to  marry  her." 

"Yes,  but  you  ought  to  have  known  that 
you  could  not  strike  one  without  hitting  the 
other,"  said  one  of  his  committee-men. 

"So  I  see  now.  But  what  is  best  to  be 
done  ? " 


158  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Well !  you'll  have  to  eat  a  little  humble 
pie  ;  soft-solder  the  pegbottoms  and  apolo- 
gize to  the  girl's  people.  Smooth  it  over 
the  best  way  possible.  You  know  how  it 
can  be  done.  The  Hardies  are  mighty 
strong  in  this  county,  and  old  Israel  is  im- 
mensely popular.  He  was  born  here,  you 
know  !  and  there  is  hardly  a  poor  man  in  the 
county  who  has  not  tasted  his  bounty.  That 
is  the  best  plan,  I  think  ;  smooth  it  over 
with  the  Hardies  and  the  Sneads,  and  then 
curry  the  pegbottoms." 

"Yes,"  added  another,  "if  I  was  you  I 
should  get  a  pair  of  the  coarsest-thickest 
soled  pegbottoms  that  I  could  find  and  cock 
my  feet  on  the  stand  as  high  as  my  legs 
would  reach.  We  are  licked  like  a  sack  if 
you  don't.  I  know  fifty  votes  in  my  own 
beat  that  you  have  lost." 

"That  is  bad,  and  I  am  truly  sorry,"  and 
with  this  the  unsatisfactory  conference  was 
ended. 

It  was  again  Winston's  turn  to  open  the 
discussion,  and  Esquire  Wheeler,  the  florid 
chairman  of  the  democratic  executive  com- 
mittee, introduced  him  with  effusive  gusto, 
the  audience  fairly  lifting  the  rafters  with 
the  swell  of  a  mighty  roar,  as  he  concluded 
by  saying : 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  159 

"  He  comes  as  a  stranger  to  the  most  of 
us,  but  it  is  almost  to  his  own  home,  and  as 
a  kinsman  that  he  comes,  for  it  is  to  the 
ever  open  hand  and  ready  bounty  of  his 
father-in-law,  that  good  old  pegbottom, 
Israel  Hardie,  whom  you  all  know,  that  we 
owe  this  very  house  in  which  we  sit.  Let 
us  welcome  him,  then,  as  one  of  us,  to  the 
manor  born." 

The  young  man  arose,  and  gracefully 
bowing  his  acknowledgments,  waited  a  few 
moments  for  the  redoubled  applause  to 
cease,  and  then  he  said  : 

"I  must  thank  you,  my  fellow-citizens, 
for  the  unmistakable  cordiality  of  your  wel- 
come. I  must  thank  you  also  for  the  hearty 
response  to  the  reference  my  friend  made  to 
the  name  of  your  former  fellow-citizen,  Mr. 
Hardie, "  (applause  and  vociferous  hurrays  for 
the  pegbottoms.)  "  But  while  sharing  with 
you,  your  high  appreciation  of  that  gentle- 
man's worth,  I  must  repudiate  all  claim  to 
your  kindness,  based  upon  my  connection 
with  him  or  his  family.  I  solicit  your 
friendship  and  support  upon  my  own  merits." 
(Applause  and  a  voice  :  "That's  right,  every 
tub  on  hits  own  bottom,  specially  if  hits  a 
pegbottom.")  "Yes,  that's  the  way,  my 
friends,  I  prefer  to  stand."  (Hooray  for 


160  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

the  pegbottoms  ! )  And  waiting  again  for  the 
noise  to  subside,  he  plunged  at  once  into  his 
argument,  warming  up  to  his  work  as  he 
went,  and  finally  concluding  with  a  burst  of 
eloquence  that  fairly  set  his  audience  wild 
with  enthusiasm. 

Lawson  followed.  It  was  plain  to  be  seen 
that  he  was  badly  hacked.  With  a  sickly 
grace  he  began : 

"  I  have  just  received  from  the  chairman 
of  the  congressional  committee,  a  request 
that  is  so  consonant  with  my  own  feelings, 
that  I  shall  cheerfully  adopt  it.  It  is  the 
request  that  in  future  all  irrelevant  person- 
alities be  eliminated  from  our  joint  discus- 
sions. As  I  say,  the  request  is  so  much  in 
harmony  with  my  own  inclinations,  that  I 
shall  cheerfully  accede  to  it,  but  before  I 
cut  myself  entirely  off  from  the  privilege,  I 
find  myself  constrained  to  make  a  personal 
explanation.  A  few  days  ago,  betrayed  by 
the  acerbities  of  debate,  and  while  smarting 
under  the  knout  of  satire,  which  my  honor- 
able opponent  knows  so  well  how  to  wield, 
I  made  an  unfortunate  allusion  to  the  social 
standing,  and  to  the  family,  of  a  gentleman, 
who,  though  nameless  then,  and  who  shall 
be  nameless  now,  should  not  have  been  re- 
ferred to  at  all.  The  remarks  were  made  in 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  161 

a  spirit  of  pleasantry,  but  they  were  unjust 
to  the  gentleman,  who  appropriated  them,  as 
they  were  unjust  and  discourteous  to  his 
excellent  daughter.  I  have  too  high  an 
opinion  of  the  character  of  the  man  and  of 
the  sterling  worth  of  the  class  to  which  he 
belongs,  and  which  he  so  worthily  represents, 
to  have  willfully  aspersed  the  one  or  belit- 
tled the  other  ;  and  I  beg  now,  to  thus  pub- 
licly retract  every  word  I  then  said  which 
may  be  construed  into  a  reflection  upon  the 
integrity  of  his  character,  or  the  respecta- 
bility of  his  daughter.  This  I  do,  my  fellow- 
citizens,  of  my  own  volition  and  without  the 
knowledge  of  my  opponent,  who  so  seriously 
regarded  the  little  bit  of  badinage,  as  per- 
haps applied  to  himself." 

And  thus  having  eaten  his  little  bit  of  hum- 
ble pie,  he  proceeded  to  curry  the  pegbot- 
toms  in  the  most  approved  style. 

But  the  pegbottoms  were  disposed  to  be 
mulish  and  save  the  racket  kept  up  by  his 
claqueurs,  his  speech  was  received  in  sullen 
silence. 

It  was  not  until  the  speaking  was  over, 
and  they  had  had  their  dinner  that  the  Judge 
could  find  a  fifteen  minutes,  privacy  with  his 
son. 

"I  think,  David,  that  I  can  safely  con- 


162  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

gratulate  you  upon  your  election.  This  sur- 
prising turn  of  affairs  has  done  it." 

"Yes,  I  feel  very  secure,  and  I  do  not 
know  whether  to  laugh  or  to  cry  over  it. 
To  owe  my  exultation,  to  such  an  abase- 
ment !  Was  there  ever  a  more  tantalizing 
irony  of  fortune  ? " 

"  Yes,  it  is  strange ;  but  it  is  not  upon 
your  political  prospects  that  you  are  to  be 
congratulated.  You  have  the  sweetest 
woman  in  all  the  world  for  a  wife. " 

"  That  can  only  humiliate  me  the  more." 

"  No  ;  she  is  worthy  the  love  of  any  man, 
of  the  best  of  men." 

"  That  puts  us  the  further  apart." 

"  Why  should  it?" 

"If  she  is  worthy  a  good  man,  I  am  not 
worthy  of  her.  Her  worth  completes  the 
measure  of  my  own  unworthiness.  Father, 
I  am  very  sorry,  but  I  have  quite  resolved 
never  to  see  her  again." 

"No  !  that  would  be  cowardly,  unmanly, 
cruel !  It  would  be  adding  insult  to  injury, 
to  strike  the  woman  you  have  already 
wounded." 

"  The  wound  cannot  be  deep  ;  her  pride,  or 
vanity  rather,  might  possibly  be  hurt,  but 
her  affections  can  hardly  be  touched.  She 
cannot  be  a  woman  of  any  sensibility,  or  she 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  163 

never  would  have  married  as  she  did.  But 
we  need  not  discuss  it.  I  am  quite  deter- 
mined. You  can  take  her  home  and  keep 
her  in  countenance,  if  you  will.  To  avoid 
tlie  ruinous  effect  of  a  scandal,  perhaps  it 
would  be  best  for  you  to  do  so,  only  it  will 
be  a  grave  injustice  to  inflict  her  upon  my 
poor  sister.  But  as  for  me,  I  must  avoid 
her  as  a  man  should  avoid  a  lurking  tempta- 
tion to  commit  murder.  I  must  despise  her 
as  long  as  I  live,  or  else  I  must  despise  my- 
self." 

"  This  is  very  wicked,  David,  and  very 
foolish." 

"  Wicked  it  may  be,  but  not  foolish.  It 
is  the  logical  conclusion  of  a  well-considered 
proposition.  It  was  wicked  to  marry  her, 
but  the  unfortunate  extremity  of  our  affairs 
dictated  its  wisdom.  It  may  be  wicked  to 
abandon  her,  but  my  own  self-respect 
demands  it.  Were  there  no  other  alterna- 
tive, I  should  be  tempted  to  strangle  her,  or 
else  to  hang  myself.  Is  it  folly  to  avoid  such 
a  temptation  ? " 

"  But  you  do  not,  you  cannot  realize  all 
that  she  is.  She  is  not  what  you  think." 

"  Let  her  be  what  she  may,  or  even  more  ; 
were  she  an  angel  itself,  it  could  not  be  dif- 
ferent. The  fairer  she  is,  the  fouler  I  must 


164  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

necessarily  be.  That  is  the  whole  of  it. 
Were  it  not  that  I  wish  to  put  my  heel  upon 
the  neck  of  this  fellow  Lawson,  the 
cowardly  cur  who  insulted  her,  I  should 
withdraw  from  the  canvass,  and  quit  the 
country  at  once  and  forever ;  but  as  it  is,  I 
shall  stay  to  triumph  over  his  malice  and  in 
the  mad  whirl  of  politics  at  Washington,  I 
shall  try  to  forget  who  and  what  I  am, 
leaving  her  free  to  do  as  she  pleases  with- 
out responsibility  to  me.  Perhaps  when  she 
tires  of  the  false  position  into  which  she  has 
been  lifted  by  her  father's  gold,  she  will 
apply  for  a  divorce,  and  sinking  back  to  her 
proper  level  she  may  find  a  man  who  would 
not  have  to  despise  himself  to  respect  her." 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  to,  listen  to  such  as 
this  from  you." 

"  I,  too,  am  sorry  to  have  to  speak  it,  but 
such  are  my  feelings.  I  would  not  have  to 
endure  again  another  five  minutes  of  the 
humiliating  sense  of  debauched  manhood 
that  I  experienced  that  day  in  her  presence, 
for  a  lustrum  of  the  happiest  years  that  can 
be  crowded  in  a  human  life.  I  felt,  then, 
how  utterly  impossible  it  would,  be  for  us 
two  to  ever  be  any  other  than  strangers  to 
each  other.  I  hope  Augusta  is  well  ;  poor 
sister  ;  I  left  her  sadly  upset." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  165 

"Augusta  is  well,"  answered  his  father 
a  little  coldly.  ' '  But  I  am  taking  too  much 
of  your  valuable  time.  You  should  be  out 
among  the  people." 

"Shaking  hands  with  my  new  relations," 
laughed  David,  and  both,  glad  of  the  diver- 
sion, went  out  to  mingle  with  the  throng 
that  still  lingered  in  the  town. 


CHAPTER  X. 

DRIFTING  APART. 

THE  next  day  at  Clinton,  David  Winston 
received  his  mail.  Crushed  out  of  shape  in 
the  midst  of  a  mass  of  political  correspon- 
dence, inquiries,  suggestions,  instructions, 
committee  reports, 

"  And  other  brilliant  matters  of  the  sort," 

he  found  a  letter  from  his  gentle  sister 
Augusta.  It  was  dated,  and  read  as  fol- 
lows : 

"  HOME,  October  28,  1854. 

"  MY  DEAREST  BROTHER  DAVE  :  I  suppose  that  you 
have  seen  the  Clarion,  with  all  that  wretched  stuff  in  it, 
Why  didn't  you  horsewhip  that  cowardly  fellow  ? 


166  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  I  have  just  come  from  Grace;  I  slept  with  her  last  night, 
and  she  is  the  sweetest  girl  in  all  the  wide,  wide  world.  I 
went  to  her  as  soon  as  I  saw  it;  I  somehow  felt  that  we 
were  the  cause  of  it  all,  and  I  wanted  to  get  down  on  my 
knees  and  ask  her  forgiveness  for  the  insult  that  man  had 
put  upon  her.  I  found  her  much  more  amiable  than  I 
could  have  been,  had  it  been  me  and  Walter  the  wretched 
dog  had  slandered.  She  had  read  it  before  I  got  there,  and 
had  recovered  from  her  first  hurt.  Of  course  she  was 
angry  still,  as  she  had  the  right  to  be,  for  it  was  a  cruel 
thing  for  a  sensitive  girl  to  have  to  bear.  But  she  bore 
it  bravely;  and,  what  is  strange,  she  didn't  seem  to  mind 
it  at  all  for  herself.  It  was  only  that  she  thought  it 
would  hurt  you,  that  she  cared.  '  Ah,'  she  said,  and  I  just 
wish  you  could  have  seen  her  as  she  said  it  ;  it  was 
really  tragic,  '  ah,  that  the  wretch  should  try  to  hurt  him ! 
She  calls  you  him  and  he,  she  seems  afraid  to  call  you 
David,  or  dear,  or  husband,  it  is  only  him  and  he,  and 
there  is  a  world  of  feeling  in  her  voice  as  she  says  it. 
'  Ah,  that  the  wretch  should  try  to  wound  him  through 
mo  ;  I,  who  would  gladly  give  my  right  arm  to  shield  him 
from  the  least  harm.'  It  was  really  pretty;  Ristori  her- 
self could  not  have  surpassed  it,  and  I  know  that  she  meant 
it  every  word,  for  her  eyes  fairly  sparkled;  but  then  she 
brightened  up  a  little  when  I  told  her  no,  it  was  her  whom 
the  wretch  intended  to  strike,  and  you  ought  to  have  seen 
how  proudly  she  drew  herself  up,  and  what  a  pretty  scorn 
was  on  her  lip,  as  she  said:  'The  creature's  spite  could 
never  touch  me.'  And  then,  last  night  when  we  were  fix- 
ing for.  bed,  and  Xanny,  her  girl,  took  down  her  hair,  she 
laughed  and  said:  'Look  here,  Augusta,  what  do  you 
suppose  Mrs.  Lawson  would  give  for  such  a  chignon  ? ' 
and  she  really  has  the  most  beautiful  hair  I  ever  saw,  just 
as  fine  and  flossy  as  silk,  and  comes  down  to  her  knees. 
You  know  that  I  am  proud  of  my  own  hair,  but  I  would 
give  the  world  if  I  only  had  hers.  But  now,  Brother 
Pave,  I  must  tell  you  all  about  her,  for  I  never  was  so  sur- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  167 

prised  before  in  all  my  life  as  I  was  when  I  first  saw  her, 
for  instead  of  the  awkward,  gawky  fright  I  expected  to 
see,  I  found  her  the  sweetest  girl  I  ever  met  in  all  my  life. 
Well,  you  know  that  you  left  me  that  morning  sadly  in  the 
mullygrubs  (I  reckon  I  have  spelled  it  right,  but  I  can't 
find  it  in  the  dictionary),  I  cried  myself  quite  sick  and  was 
utterly  miserable  when  father  came  back  from  the  wedding 
and  asked  me  to  go  with  him  to  see  her.  I  couldn't  bear 
the  idea,  and  positively  refused  to  go,  when  he  got  •  real 
angry,  and  peremptorily  commanded  me  to  go:  and  I  had 
to  go,  which  I  did  just  as  I  was,  all  frowsled  up  as  you  teft 
me,  only  I  had  cried  my  eyes  all  red  and  bloated.  But  when 
we  got  there  and  found  everything  so  splendidly  elegant, 
and  in  the  presence  of  such  a  queenly  looking  lady,  I  felt 
like  sinking  through  the  floor,  and  when  I  further  saw  that 
my  shabbiness  hurt  her,  I  just  couldn'  t  stand  it,  and  with- 
out going  in  the  parlor  I  begged  her  to  excuse  me  and  I 
drove  back  home  just  as  fast  as  Jake  could  whip  up  the 
horses,  to  dress  and  go  back  to  her.  Well,  I  dressed  and 
went  back,  and  she  received  me  so  kindly  and  so  sweetly 
that  my  heart  went  out  to  her  completely  at  once,  and  now 
if  she  was  my  very  own  flesh-and-blood  twin-sister,  I  could 
not  love  her  any  better  than  I  do, 

"  We  stayed  all  day,  and  had  a  magnificent  dinner,  as  fine 
as  the  governor  gave  last  month,  when  Ida  was  married  ; 
and  wasn't  it  funny  ?  we  hail  it  all  to  ourselves,  just  we 
three,  father,  Grace  and  myself,  when  there  was  enough 
for  a  hundred. — You  may  imagine,  though,  what  a  feast 
the  darkies  had.  And  then  she  told  me  all  about  the 
wedding,  and  how  frightened  she  was  that  you  might  not 
come  ;  and  showed  me  where  you  two  stood  under  the 
roses  ;  and  she  gave  me  a  cluster  of  rose-buds  from  the 
bell — wasn't  it  a  beautiful  bell  ? — I  want  just  such  a  one 
when  I  marry — and  she  wanted  to  pin  one  to  your  coat — 
the  sweetest  one  she  could  find,  she  said — but  was  afraid, 
so  I  send  one  in  this  for  you  ;  you  must  wear  it  for  her 
sake,  and  let  her  see  it  when  you  come,  it  will  do  her  so 


168  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

much  good,  for  she  has  the  nicest  of  feelings,  and  I  know 
she  loves  you  with  all  her  heart,  and  she  has  a  sweet  and 
tender  heart  ;  and  oh,  Brother  Dave,  I  must  ask  you  to 
lorgive  me  for  speaking  so  shamefully  of  her  to  you,  that 
morning  ;  please  forgive  me,  for  I  did  not  know  then  what 
a  true  lady  and  sweet  girl  she  was.  And,  brother,  I  should 
like  to  tell  you  something — the  most  surprising  thing  you 
ever  could  imagine,  only  I  promised  her  upon  my  life  that  I 
wouldn't  never  tell,  and  so  I  can't,  but  if  that  wretch 
should  ever  say  anything  more  about  her,  you  just  ask  him 
if  he  ever  courted  a  certain  young  lady,  and  got  ingloriously 
kicked.  He  can't  deny  it,  for  she  showed  me  the  letter 
itself  ;  and  you  just  ought  to  have  seen  the  look  of  supreme 
contempt  on  her  face  as  she  put  it  in  the  fire  and  burned  it 
up.  She  don't  want  you  ever  to  know,  or  I  would  tell  you 
all  about  it,  but  I  promised  her  that  I  wouldn't  ever  breathe 
it  to  a  mortal  soul,  so  I  can't.  She  is  somehow  afraid  that 
you  might  not  like  it,  but  you  should  not  care,  as  she  n  ally 
despised  the  fellow's  offer.  It  was  the  most  conceited  letter 
you  ever  read,  and  the  next  week  he  went  and  married  the 
old  Widow  Turpin.  No  wonder  he  hates  Grace,  and  hates 
you  for  marrying  her.  But  this  letter  is  long  enough, 
already  ;  I  only  write  in  a  hurry  to  beg  your  forgiveness 
and  to  send  you  my  sisterly  congratulations.  I  am  willing 
to  divide  your  love  with  Grace,  but  I  don't  want  you  to  give 
it  quite  all  to  her. 

"  Your  affectionate  sister, 

"  AUGUSTA. 

"P.S.  I  must  tell  you,  all  the  young  men  here  are  for 
you  ;  they  have  formed  a  PEGBOTTOM  club,  and  are  all 
wearing  pegbottom  boots.  I  was  a  little  ashamed  at  first, 
but  Walter  says  I  need  not  mind  it  ;  that  he  didn't  care 
for  it  a  bit,  and  now  I  do  not.  He  has  got  a  pair  of  peg- 
bottoms,  too,  and  says  that  Lawson  lost  his  trick  when  he 
played  that  card,  and  that  now  he  is  bound  to  be  euchred. 
I  do  hope  it  is  so,  and  that  you  will  beat  him,  as  much  for 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  169 

her  sake  as  for  your  own.  She  would  think  that  she  was 
the  cause  of  your  defeat,  and  it  would  kill  her.  Bye-bye. 

"  GUSSIE. 

"  P.S.  again.  But  the  funniest  thing  of  all  is  the  old 
gentleman,  her  father,  buying  a  pair  of  shoes  for  all  the 
pegbottom  women  and  children  in  St.  Glair  county,  and 
sending  them  to  the  democratic  executive  committee  of  that 
county  to  be  distributed  out  to  them. 

"  Walter  says  it  is  the  best  campaign  trick  he  ever  saw. 
He  bought  five  hundred  pairs,  and  Walter  says  that  every 
pair  is  good  for  a  vote,  and  besides  the  poor  children 
need  them  this  cold  wreather.  I  think  it  real  good  in  the 
old  man,  don't  you?  But  then  he  will  do  anything  for 
Grace.  Gus. 

"Nota  Bcna.  I  have  begged  Grace  to  come  home  with  me, 
but  she  will  not.  I  know  that  she  wants  to  come  though 
by  the  wistful  look  in  her  eyes  when  she  said  no.  She 
never  said  why,  but  I  know  she  is  waiting  for  you  to  come 
and  fetch  her,  so  you  must  hurry  up  and  get  through  with 
the  election  and  bring  her  home  ;  I  do  so  long  to  kiss  her 

welcome. 

"  Your  loving  sister, 

"  AUGUSTA  V.  WINSTON." 

It  would  have  been  a  difficult  psycho- 
logical operation  to  have  analyzed  David 
Winston's  feelings,  as  he  read  this  letter. 
The  warm  terms  of  admiring  approval  in 
which  his  father  had  spoken,  the  day  before, 
of  her,  the  wife  of  whom  he  knew  so  little, 
had  been  taken  with  a  large  grain  of  salt. 
Being  himself  accessory  to,  if  not  particeps 
crimines,  in  the  humiliating  bargain,  by 
which  he  bartered  his  manhood  for  sordid 


170  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

gold,  it  was  but  natural,  he  thought,  that 
his  father  should  try  to  make  the  best  of  the 
dicker,  by  presenting  the  brightest  side  of 
the  young  lady's  picture.  But  here,  in  the 
unaffected  enthusiasm  of  a  truthful  and 
loving  sister,  he  found  testimony  that  could 
not  be  questioned.  She  had  protested  in 
indignant  scorn  against  the  marriage  ;  all 
her  womanly  pride  and  her  womanly  prej- 
udice had  been  arrayed  against  the  wo- 
man he  married,  and  now  she  was  the 
first  to  come  with  paeans  of  praise  to  the 
beauty  and  grace  and  sweetness  of  the 
bride.  His  own  senses,  too,  began  to  arouse 
in  corroborative  energy.  Visions  of  her 
loveliness,  glimpses  of  which  he  had  caught 
even  through  the  nigrescent  cloud  of  dis- 
gust and  loathing  that  had  so  cruelly 
blinded  him  on  that  unhappy  morning,  had 
been,  despite  his  efforts  to  shut  them  out, 
continually  floating  before  his  inner  sight, 
like  angel  Sittings  in  a  dream.  Try  as  he 
might  to  dismiss  them  as  distempered  illu- 
sions, they  would  still  haunt  his  senses,  and 
he  had  to  despise  himself  for  unconsciously 
blessing  the  radiant  presence.  And  now  his 
sister's  enthusiastic  tribute  to  the  loveli- 
ness which  he  had  felt  rather  than  seen 
strangely  touched  him. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  171 

For  a  moment  he  felt  a  lifting  up  of  soul, 
a  strange  thrill  of  gladness  and  of  pride 
shooting  through  his  being,  and  tenderly 
taking  the  little  rosebud,  now  withered  and 
flattened  out  of  all  shape,  but  fragrant  still, 
he  unconsciously  kissed  it  and  lovingly  put  it 
away  in  his  pocket-book,  and  softly  he  whis- 
pered her  name,  when  in  a  flash,  like  the  sharp 
plunge  of  a  dagger  in  his  heart,  came  the 
damning  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  the 
pitiful  meanness  by  which  he  must  claim  a 
lordly  possession  of  all  this  sweetness. 

"My  God,  this  is  horrible  !"  he  cried,  the 
very  reverence  he  began  to  feel  for  the  lady 
exaggerating  the  contempt  he  felt  for  him- 
self. "  I  must  put  this  away,  or  it  will 
drive  me  mad.  How  could  I  do  such  a  des- 
picable thing  !  But  it  must  be  undone  ; 
such  an  iniquity  must  not  be  permitted  to 
stand.  I  must  write  to  her  now,  before  the 
delusion  becomes  a  reality  to  her,  and  tell 
her  how  utterly  impossible  it  will  ever  be  for 
us  two  to  be  anything  but  strangers  to  each 
other.  And  yet — and  yet — it  would  be  very 
sweet  for  me  to  look  in  her  face  and  tell  her 
how  much  I  wish  I  was  not  so  wholly  unfit 
to  stand  in  her  presence.  But  I  cannot ;  her 
truth  would  palsy  my  tongue  with  the  poi- 
son of  its  lie." 


172  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

And  then,  as  if  indicting  a  renunciation  of 
all  claim  and  hope  or  expectation  to  a  place 
in  heaven,  he  wrote  : 

"  MRS.  WINSTON  :  My  father  and  my  sister  have  both 
told  ine  how  sadly  I  have  misunderstood  you,  and  with  the 
knowledge  comes  the  humiliating  conviction  of  how  cruelly 
I  have  wronged  you.  I  would  gladly  die  to  undo  the 
wrong,  but  as  I  lack  the  courage  of  Judas,  the  only  possi- 
ble atonement  left  for  me  to  make  is  to  banish  myself  from 
the  heaven  it  would  be  a  pollution  for  me  to  enter.  You 
can  understand  what  a  dishonorable  thing  it  was  for  mo  to 
marry  you  as  I  did,  and  so  understanding  you  must  know 
what  a  debasing  thing  it  will  ever  be  for  me  to  stand  in  your 
presence  again.  Under  the  icy  shadow  of  such  a  humilia- 
tion it  would  be  impossible  for  the  seeds  of  even  a  conven- 
tional affection  to  fructify.  It  would  be  folly,  then — nay, 
worse  than  folly — it  would  be  an  additional  crime  against 
your  happiness  for  me  to  attempt  to  plant  them  ;  and  cruel 
as  it  may  seem,  and  painful  as  it  is  to  me,  I  write  this  to 
absolve  you  from  all  further  sense  of  duty  or  affection  to 
me,  and  to  ask  you  to  put  aside,  as  an  unwomanly  reproach, 
all  further  thought  or  interest  in  my  being.  I  trust  that  it 
may  not  pain  you  to  do  this.  I  shall  see  to  it  that  society 
must  hold  me  entirely  responsible  for  any  scandal  that  may 
grow  out  of  the  separation  by  assuming  for  myself  all 
blame,  and  by  availing  myself  of  the  first  occasion  to  pro- 
claim to  the  world  the  innocence  which  is  yours,  and  the 
infamy  which  is  mine. 

"If  you  understand  me,  I  have  written  enough;  and, 
with  a  reverence  I  am  too  vile  to  speak,  I  bid  you  a  sad  fare- 
well. 

"D.  R.  WINSTON." 

Carefully  folding  the  letter,  he  addressed 
it,  and  then,  fearful  that  his  purpose  might 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  173 

fail,  he  hurried  to  the  village  post-office  and 
mailed  it.  Then  he  came  back  to  his  room 
and  wrote  to  his  sister  : 

"  MY  SWEET  SISTER  :  Tour  pleasant  letter  is  received, 
and  my  heart  blesses  you  for  the  goodness  that  inspired  it. 
The  knowledge  of  Miss  Hardie's  worth  comes  too  late. 
Had  I  known  her  before  I  debauched  my  manhood  I  should 
have  sought  to  win  her,  but  now  she  is  all  too  pure  and 
good  for  me,  and  I  have  just  written  her  that  she  may 
never  expect  to  see  my  face  again.  I  shall  avoid  her  as  the 
vampire  shuns  the  light  which  guards  the  couch  of  sleeping 
innocence.  We  are  too  far  apart  in  moral  worth  to  ever  be 
nearer  in  affection  ;  I  should  feel  it  a  sacrilege  on  my  part 
to  venture  to  kiss  even  her  finger-tips.  It  was  a  sad  thing 
I  had  to  write,  and  no  one  may  ever  know  the  pain  it  cost 
me  to  write  it,  but  I  feel  that  my  punishment  is  just,  and  I 
may  not  complain.  If  it  does  not  hurt  her  too  much,  I 
shall  be  content  to  bear  it  all. 

"  I  have  not  the  heart  to  write  more  now,  but  will  write 
you  again  when  I  am  in  a  better  mood.  I  may  not  dictate 
your  associations,  but  it  may  be  wise  for  you  to  avoid  her. 
The  association  cannot,  I  opine,  be  otherwise  than  embar- 
rassing to  you  both.  I  thank  you  for  the  rose,  and  shall 
keep  it  always.  Your  loving  brother, 

"DAVID  R.  WINSTON." 

The  mails,  in  those  days,  were  mostly  car- 
ried across  the  country  in  hacks,  and  were 
more  slow  in  transit  than  they  are  now  in 
this  age  of  steam.  But  all  slowly  as  they 
moved,  they  brought  their  sad,  sad  freight 
of  disappointment  and  sorrow  and  misery  all 
too  soon  to  the  gentle  heart  which  leaped  in 


174  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

such  glad  expectancy  as  she  recognized  the 
already  familiar  hand  in  which  it  was  ad- 
dressed. 

Ah !  a  letter  for  me,  and  from  him  ;  yes, 
it  is  from  him  and  for  me,  all  for  me  ! " 
And  in  a  flutter  of  maiden  coyness  she 
blushed  for  her  eagerness,  and  seizing  the 
letter  she  ran  up  to  her  room,  that  no  one 
might  see  the  gladness  that  thrilled  her. 

Tenderly  she  opened  it,  and  tenderly  she 
kissed  the  dear  name,  softly  murmuring : 
"Ah,  sweetheart,  sweetheart!"  and  then, 
kissing  it  again,  she  read. 

Her  eyes  first  opened  with  a  dim  surprise, 
and  then  dilated  with  a  startled  look  of  fear, 
and  then  they  dropped,  pathetic  as  a  stricken 
fawn's  in  mortal  agony,  as  it  all  came  to  her 
what  it  meant. 

He  had  indeed  written  enough;  she  did 
understand,  and  if  the  crucifixion  of  a  mortal 
hope  could  have  paralyzed  a  human  heart, 
her  heart  would  have  ceased  to  beat.  All 
her  newly-found  gladness,  which  she  had 
nursed  into  such  a  beautiful  joy,  gone  like  a 
breath  ;  all  her  new-born  hopes  which  had  so 
suddenly  blossomed  into  living,  breathing 
actualities,  the  sweetest,  and  dearest  part  of 
her  own  being,  vanished  like  a  midsummer 
morning's  dream.  He,  the  idol  of  her  newly- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  175 

awakened  adoration,  the  man  whom  her 
reverential  affection  had  apotheosized  into 
a  god,  had  crumbled  into  dust,  and  all  that 
was  left  of  the  fond  foolish  dream  was  only 
this,  a  white  sheet  of  paper,  blackened  and 
bristling  with  lines  that  glared  and  stung 
like  adders. 

For  a  moment  she  stood,  as  if  mentally 
burying  her  beautiful  dead,  and  then  she 
gathered  courage  to  write,  for  Grace 
Winston,  Abigail  no  more,  for  David  was 
dead  to  her,  and  Abigail  must  no  longer  be 
sweet.  Grace  Winston  was  a  woman  whose 
courage  was  as  strong  as  her  beauty  was 
rare.  Not  a  tremor  of  nerve  broke  the 
even,  graceful  sweep  of  her  pen  as  she 
wrote  : 

"  MY  DEAR  MB.  WINSTON  :  I  have  read  your  letter, 
and  I  do  understand.  It  is  very  sad,  but  thinking  as  you 
do,  perhaps  it  is  best.  It  was  very  foolish  in  me  to  build 
such  pleasant  hopes  upon  what  nay  sober  reason  should 
have  told  me  was  a  chimerical  impossibility,  and  I  must 
thank  you  for  putting  an  end  to  them,  at  once  and  forever. 
I  may  not  blame  you,  and  I  very  willingly  absolve  you  from 
all  further  interest  in  my  life.  You  need  not  even  concern 
yourself  on  my  account  for  any  scandal  that  may  grow  out 
of  the  separation.  My  position  in  society  is  not  such  at 
to  subject  my  goings  to  that  supersensitive  deference  to  its 
criticisms,  that  one  '  to  the  manor  born  '  may  be  expected 
to  feel.  My  womanly  honor  cannot  be  assailed,  and  now 
I  am  perfectly  indifferent  to  all  things  else.  Should  you 


176  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

take  any  steps  in  the  matter,  at  all,  let  them  be  only  such 
as  will  protect  your  own  reputation,  and  best  advance  your 
own  interest.  If  a  legal  annulment  of  the  ceremony — I 
cannot  call  it  a  marriage — should  suggest  itself  to  your  in- 
terest, you  have  my  consent  to  institute  suit,  whenever,  in 
your  judgment,  it  is  necessary.  I  shall  interpose  no  defense. 
I  return  you  the  two  letters,  all  that  I  have  from  you.  I  do 
not  return  the  wedding-ring,  because  it  was  my  mother's.  I 
shall,  however,  discard  it  from  my  hand  and  put  it  away, 
where  its  sight  may  not  be  a  reminder  of  the  mockery  it 
commemorates.  The  name  you  gave  me,  and  by  which  you 
last  addressed  me,  1  suppose  I  will  have  to  retain  until 
legal  steps  are  taken  to  divest  me  of  it  ? 

"  Wishing  you  a  happy  realization  of  all  your  political 
hopes,  and  the  fullest  measure  of  success  in  all  your  under- 
takings, I  shall  ever  remain, 

Your  sincere  friend  and  well-wisher, 

"GKACE  HABDIE  WINSTON." 

"And  now,"  she  said,  as  she  sealed  and 
addressed  it,  "I  must  break  it  to  father. 
I  must  not  let  him  see  that  it  hurts  me  so. 
Ah,  poor  father!  he  did  this  for  him  as  much 
as  for  me,"  and  gathering  all  her  courage 
she  went  down  to  her  father. 

His  quick,  loving  glance  detected  the 
trouble  she  so- bravely  tried  to  hide,  and  he 
asked  : 

"  Was  yer  letter  from  David  ? " 

"Yes,  it  was  from  him;  and  I  must  tell 
you,  father,  and  you  must  not  let  it  trouble 
you,  for  I  am  quite  sure  that  it  is  all  for  the 
best.  He  thinks  that  a  marriage  such  as 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  177 

ours,  so  mercenary,  so  unholy  and  unloving, 
cannot  not  be  right  in  the  sight  of  God,  and 
-and- 

"  He  wants  ter  renig?"  interrupted  the 
old  man. 

"He  wishes  to  release  me,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"I  wouldn't  'a'  thort  that  ov  David." 

"But  it  is  best,  father.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  it  is  best." 

"Well!  well!  meb-by  hit  is.  An'  if  it 
don't  hurt  you,  Abby,  if  you  kin  stand  it  I 
kin,  only  I'ze  monstus  sorry  fer  David." 

"Yes,  it  is  hard  upon  him  too." 

"  Yes,  an'  the  Jedge.  Hit's  mity  bad.  But 
sense  I  come  ter  think  about  hit,  I  mout  a 
knowed  hit.  You  kin  tie  a  hen  on  a  nest 
but  yer  can't  make  her  lay.  I  wonder 
though  zif  hit's  all  along  'bout  these  tales  as 
Lawson's  been  a  telling  on  you  as  makes  him 
kick  ?  'Bout  yer  wearin'  false  hair,  Abby  ? 
Shorely  David  is  got  more  sense  than  ter 
believe  such  a  yarn  as  that !  An'  asides,  if 
yer  did  ware  it,  what  would  that  hurt  zif 
yer  tuck  it  off  at  night.  Don't  all  the  tippy- 
bobs  wear  'em  ?  an'  as  fer  his  wife,  ole  Miss 
Tuppin,  I'll  lay  a  coon -skin  that  the  top  ov 
her  head  iz  as  slick  as  a  peeled  ingern." 

Oh!  it    was    not    that,    father.     I  think 
12 


178  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

that  I  understand  him  better  than  that. 
It  was  because — because — oh  !  I  cannot 
explain  it  to  you,  father,  as  I  feel  it, 
and  as  I  am  sure  he  feels  it.  And,  father,  he 
is  right,  and  you  must  not  blame  him  so 
much.  I  am  sure  that  if  you  were  in  his 
place  that  you  would  do  as  he  has  done." 

"  Mebby  so.  I  thinks  as  how  I  sees  hit  as 
it  iz.  David  thinks  thest  as  his  daddy  thort, 
as  how  I  had  sold  you  ter  him  ;  an'  that  I 
had  hired  him  ter  marry  you.  An'  that's 
how  this  hocky  tale  started  'bout  yer  waite 
in  gold— 

11 1  do  not  understand  ?  " 

"  Well,  hold  on  a  minnit  an'  I  will  'splain. 
Yer  see  we  waz  a  talking  in  thar  office,  an' 
some  eavesdropper  must  'a'  hearn  us,  an' 
David  sed  as  he  wouldn't  marry  no  'umman 
on  God's  green  yeath  for  her  waite  in  gold, 
an'  I  sez,  sez  I,  Abby  is  worth  her  waite 
in  gold,  an'  the  man  as  got  her  will  git 
it  too,  with  a  nigger  flung  in  with  every 
pound— 

"  Oh,  father  !  "  with  a  cry  of  pain. 

"Yes,  but  I  didn't  go  ter  mean  that  I'd 
give  him  yer  waite  in  gold,  thest  ter  marry 
you.  I  wouldn't  agin  no  man  that.  I  thest 
meant  as  the  man  as  was  lucky  enuff  ter  get 
you  would  git  a  fortin'  flung  in,  an'  I'd  a 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  179 

heap  ruther  that  David  Winston  had  a  got 
you  than  any  other  chap  in  all  creation. 
That's  what  I  meant,  hunny." 

"  I  see  it  all  now,  father,  and  I  understand. 
You  intended  it  for  our  mutual  good, 
and  it  was  good  in  you  to  do  it,  but  it  has 
been  a  mistake — a  sad  mistake.  He  feels 
the  dishonor,  and  it  will  kill  us  both  to — to 

"Try  ter  hide  it,"  interrupting  the  stam- 
mering effort.  "Well,  mebby  hit  would. 
Sich  things  can't  well  be  hid.  The  skellitin 
in  the  closet  iz  allers  a  tumlin'  out  an'  allers 
a  grinnin'.  But,  hunny,"  brightening  up  a 
little,  "I'z  glad  ter  see  that  yer  don't  mine 
hit  so  bad  ?" 

"Yes,  it  is  better  now,  before  I  had 
learned  to  love  him  too  dearly,"  with  the 
ghost  of  a  smile. 

"Yes,  that's  so.  But,  Abby,  I  tends  ter 
stick  ter  David,  tell  the  'lection's  over,  anny- 
how.  I  thest  wants  him  ter  knock  the 
stufifin'  outen  Tom  Lawson." 

"And  I  shall  want  you  to  stick  to  him 
always,  father." 

"I  shall  that,  kaze  I  sees  yer  wants  me 
to.  I  wonder  zif  I  had  better  see  the  Jedge, 
an'  see  zif  he's  got  annything  to  say  'bout 
it!" 


180  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Oh  !  no,  no  !  Whatever  is  said  or  done, 
leave  it  for  them  to  do.  Please  do  not  let 
us  interfere.  Leave  it  all  with  them, 
father." 

"  But  I  thinks  the  Jedge  likes  you." 

"I  am  very  sure  that  ho  does,  and  for 
that  assurance  I  am  willing  to  trust  him." 

"Very  well,  then,  I'll  thest  be  tolled  by 
you,  Abby,  seein'  as  what  a  purty  mess  I've 
already  made  ov  it.  Ole  fokes  had  better 
mine  an'  keep  thay  fingers  outen  young 
folks'  pies.  I've  found  that  out." 

"  Oh,  no  !  You  intended  it  for  my  good, 
father,  and  I  shall  always  bless  you  for  your 
goodness.  But  now  we  will  put  it  all 
away." 

"Yes,  what  can't  be  cured  must  be  en- 
dured, an'  we'll  thest  heve  ter  grin  an'  bear 
it,  so  : 

"  '  Molly  put  the  kettle  on, 

Jinny  blow  the  bellus  strong,'" 

he  broke  out  in  a  heroic  effort  to  silence  his 
disappointment  in  a  song. 

That  same  afternoon  Augusta  came.  She 
saw  at  a  glance  in  the  sorrowing  eye  that 
her  brother's  cruel  arrow  had  sped  home  to 
the  bleeding  heart. 

"I  came  to  see  if  you  had  heard  from  my 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  181 

brother  ?  "  she  asked,  after  silent  kisses  had 
been  exchanged. 

"Yes,  I  have  heard." 

"  And  have  you  answered  ? " 

"Yes,  I  have  answered.  All  is  over  be- 
tween us." 

"  Please  tell  me  ?  "  with  the  tears  coming 
up. 

"I  simply  told  him  that  in  considering 
what  was  best  to  "be  done,  he  did  well  to  put 
all  thought  of  me  and  mine  out  of  the  ques- 
tion." 

"  Oh,  why  did  you  not  hold  him  loyal  to 
his  duty?" 

"Because  I  hold  his  happiness  dearer  to 
my  heart  than  I  do  my  own.  It  was  a  sad 
mistake  he  made,  and  I  cannot  let  its  shadow 
darken  all  of  the  future  of  his  life.  Oh  ! 
he  may  yet  have  great  things  before  him, 
fame,  and  honor  and  glory,  and,  mayhap, 
at  the  last  a  life  of  love  and  of  happiness, 
while  I — I — I  am  only  a  woman.  It  must 
not  matter  for  me.  I  am  not  known  only 
as  the  despised  daughter  of  the  old  parvenu. 
I  can  go  away  and  no  one  need  to  care. 
It  has  been  one  of  the  most  pleasing  fancies 
of  my  girlhood  to  travel  abroad  ;  to  see  some 
of  the  cities  and  castles  and  grand  old  ca- 
thedrals of  which  I  had  read  such  wonderful 


182  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

stories  when  a  child.  Before  this — this — 
sorrow  came,  I  was  preparing  to  go  this 
winter  ;  a  friend — one  of  my  school-girl 
friends,  now  married,  a  Mrs.  Whiting  of 
Charleston,  she  with  her  husband  and  sister, 
are  going  this  winter,  and  I  had  arranged 
to  go  with  them.  Mr.  Whiting  is  a  cotton 
merchant  and  has  a  branch  house  in  Liver- 
pool, and  he  goes  over  to  look  after  his 
interests  there  until  spring,  when  the  tour 
of  the  Continent  is  to  be  made.  They  sail  on 
the  second,  and  father  says  I  may  go  with 
them.  I  have  just  telegraphed  Mrs.  Whit- 
ing that  I  will  join  them.  I  start  this  even- 
ing by  the  eight  o'clock  train.  Mrs.  Grundy 
will  of  course  think  it  very  naughty  in  me 
to  run  away  and  leave  my  husband  so  soon 
after  marriage,  but  then  nothing  better 
could  have  been  expected  from  such  a  mesal- 
liance, and  Mrs.  Grundy  will  find  in  the 
circumstance  a  splendid  chance  to  point  a 
moral.  Mrs.  Grundy,  you  know,  must  have 
something  to  wonder  at,  and  her  wonder 
will  affect  me  less  than  any  other  woman 
in  the  world.  You  must  let  her  wonder, 
Augusta,  only  please,  do  not  you  think 
me  utterly  and  hopelessly  bad,"  and  break- 
ing down  in  a  sob  she  held  out  her  arms 
in  a  piteous  appeal  to  the  lady. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  183 

The  yearning  appeal  was  met  by  a  sisterly 
clasp  of  arms  about  her  neck,  and  between 
sobs  and  kisses  she  answered  : 

"  Oh,  darling,  darling  !  I  shall  not  think 
you  anything  but  the  dearest,  best  and 
sweetest  girl  in  all  the  world,  and  I  intend 
to  love  you  as  my  sister  always,  I  do  not  care 
what  brother  Dave  may  say." 

"Oh!"  with  a  jealous  start,  "does  he 
say  that  you  must  not  love  me  ? " 

"  He  is  mean  enough  to  say  anything,  but 
I  do  not  intend  to  mind.  I  shall  love  you, 
even  if  I  have  to  choose  between  you,  dar- 
ling, and  him.  Oh,  you  need  not  push  me 
away.  I  do  love  you,  and  I  intend  to  love 
you  in  spite  of  them  all,"  passionately  cling- 
ing to  her  neck. 

"  No,  no,  blood  is  thicker  than  water," 
firmly  putting  her  away.  "  It  would  pain  me 
to  know  that  I  stood  between  you  and  your 
brother.  I  shall  soon  be  gone  and  you  must 
learn  to  forget  me,  the  sooner  the  better. 
Let  me  see,"  reflectively,  "he  told  me  that 
he  would  not  return  before  the  election;  that 
is  on  the  seventh.  By  then  I  shall  be  gone; 
out  upon  the  ocean,  and  far,  far  away,  and 
he  need  not  ever  think  of,  or  care  for,  or 
hear  from  me  again  any  more.  And  now, 
darling,  your  love  has  been  very  sweet  to  me 


184  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

and  I  shall  always  bless  you  for  it,  but  I 
must  give  it  up.  Since  he  does  not  wish  it, 
I  will  put  it  away  too.  And  now,  darling, 
let  us  say  good-bye.  I  shall  be  too  weak  to 
speak  it  at  all  unless  I  say  it  now.  Good-bye, 
darling,  good-bye,"  and  with  a  passionate 
kiss  she  strained  her  to  her  heart  and  then 
pushing  her,  aside  she  turned,  and  running  to 
her  room  she  locked  herself  in. . 

Augusta  looked  after  her  a  moment,  and 
then  she  too  turned  sorrowfully  away. 

The  speaking  had  closed  for  the  day  at 
Spring  Garden,  and  the  speakers  had  retired 
to  their  hotels  when  Winston's  mail  was 
handed  him.  Scarcely  expecting  to  hear,  and 
certainly  not  so  soon,  from  his  wife,  the  sight 
of  her  letter1  stirred  him  with  a  little  wonder. 
Quickly  dropping  all  others  he  opened,  and 
with  something  of  the  feelings  of  a  convicted 
felon  reading  his  own  death-warrant  he 
read  it. 

"Ah!"  he  murmured  as  he  finished,  "I 
wonder  if  Lucifer,  looking  up  into  the  heaven 
from  which  he  had  fallen  could  have  felt  half 
the  remorse  that  unmans  me  now  ?  Oh  ! 
why  could  I  not  have  known  her  before ! 
Alas,  alas,  all  of  light,  of  life,  and  of  love 
gone  ;  what  have  I  to  hope  for  now  !  Ah 
me,  she  returns  me  my  letters  that  I  need 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  185 

not  ever  fear  that  they  may  be  used 
against  me.  What  a  thoughtful  goodness  ! 
But  then  she  is  altogether  good.  And  she 
takes  off  the  wedding-ring.  Oh,  bless  the 
ring  !  I  would  freely  give  my  right  hand  for 
that  poor  little  ring.  0  God  !  if  it  be  not  a 
blasphemy  for  such  a  wretch  as  I  to  ask  a 
blessing  upon  her,  bless  her !  do  Thou,  0 
God,  bless  her  !  Bless  her  and  keep  her 
alway  !  "  and  feeling  better  for  the  prayer, 
he  read  the  letter  again:  '"My  womanly 
honor  cannot  be  assailed  ; '  All,  sweet !  and 
the  man,  or  the  woman  either,  who  dares  to 
breathe  aught  against  thy  womanly  pro- 
priety— thy  womanly  goodness  or  thy  wo- 
manly sweetness  shall  eat  the  vile  slander  at 
the  butt  of  my  horsewhip." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PAYING  FOR  THEIR  WHISTLES. 

THE  campaign  had  ended,  the  discussions 
had  closed,  the  election  was  over,  and  in  the 
grateful  relaxation  that  followed  the  strained 
and  drunken  excitement  of  the  canvass,  the 
candidates  were  feverishly  awaiting  the 


186  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

.result.  The  returns  came  in  slowly  ;  less 
time  is  required  now  to  know  the  result  of  a 
Bulgarian  Plebiscite,  than  it  took  then  to 
hear  from  the  outlying  precincts  of  a  con- 
gressional district.  Only  a  few  counties  had 
been  heard  from,  but  these  few  gave  unmis- 
takable forecast  of  the  final  result.  There 
could  be  no  question  of  the  triumphant  elec- 
tion of  Winston. 

"Yes,"  sighed  Lawson,  as  the  latest  news 
came  into  his  campaign  headquarters,  giving 
one  of  his  strongest  counties  to  his  opponent, 
"Yes,  I  am  licked.  The  thing  is  lost  and 
there  is  no  chance  to  save  it." 

"Yes,  and  if  it  wasn't  for  the  party,  and 
the  money  I  will  lose,  I  would  be  blamed 
glad  of  it.  You  deserved  to  be  beaten," 
angrily  retorted  the  chairman  of  his  com- 
mittee, who  had  rashly  backed  his  partisan 
zeal  with  five  hundred  dollars,  bet  on  a 
majority  of  five  hundred  votes  over  all  others. 
"I  knew  when  you  commenced  your  mud- 
slinging,  and  began  to  daub  the  pegbottoms 
that  you  had  niggled  it.  I  saw  then  tbat 
you  were  beaten  and  I  advised  the  committee 
to  haul  you  down  and  put  up  a  more  prudent 
man.  And  I  do  wish  to  the  Lord  that  we 
had  done  it.  You  have  killed  yourself,  sir, 
as  dead  as  Hector,  and,  what  is  worse,  you 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  187 

have  given  our  party  a  blow  from  which  it 
will  be  hard  to  recover.  We  never  had  a 
better  prospect  before ;  and  to  think  that  it 
should  all  be  lost  through  your  devilish 
spleen." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  whined  the  discomfited 
and  thoroughly  beaten  politician. 

"  Sorry  !  I  should  think  so.  We  have  lost 
the  district,  now  ;  the  banner  district  of  the 
State,  and  its  loss  means  the  loss  of  the  State, 
itself,  in  the  Presidential  election.  Why  the 
dickens  couldn't  you  let  the  woman  alone  ? 
What  had  she  ever  done  to  you  that  you  had 
to  pull  down  her  back  hair  and  turn  up  her 
pegbottoms  ? " 

"  Rumor  has  it,"  interrupted  the  secretary 
of  the  committee,  the  facetious  Mr.  Thom- 
son, "  that  the  lady,  once  upon  a  time,  had 
applied  the  dainty  toe  (she  wears  a  number 
ten)  of  her  pegbottom  to  the  seat — the  seat 
of  Tom's  most  tender  susceptibilities." 

"What  do  you  mean  ? "  angrily  interrupted 
Lawson. 

*'Why,  I  mean  that  she  once  kicked  you 
yourself.  Put  the  heavy  weight  of  her  peg- 
bottoms  upon  your  matrimonial  bread-basket 
and  squashed  you  flat  as  a  flounder." 

' '  Please  speak  common  English  ;  I  cannot 
understand  your  labored  metaphors." 


188  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Very  well,  then,  in  plain  talk,  it  is  the 
social  on  dit  that  you  yourself  courted  Miss 
Hardie,  and  that  she  everlastingly  sat  down 
on  you.  No  wonder  you  thought  she 
weighed  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  and 
that  you  should  feel  sore.  Only  think  of 
a  two  hundred  and  fifty  pound  pegbottom, 
with  an  uncertain  weight  of  chignon  and 
ear-bobs  flopped  down  upon  a  man's  tender 
affections  !  I  don't  see  how  you  survived." 

"It's  an  impertinent  gossip,"  gasped  the 
poor  fellow.  "  There  isn't  a  particle  of  truth 
in  it ;  I  do  not  even  know  the  woman." 

"It  is  pretty  direct  any  way.  It  seems 
that  a  letter  has  turned  up — 

"Damn  the  letter,"  hissed  Lawson,  now 
fairly  cornered. 

"  Well,  you  may  damn  the  letter,  for  the 
letter  damns  you.  I  wonder  what  your  wife 
will  say  when  she  sees  it  in  the  Clarion  to- 
morrow ! " 

"  Good  God  !  Is  that  being  done  ? "  aghast 
at  the  possibility. 

"  Yes.  Walter  Graves,  who  is  to  be  mar- 
ried to  Miss  Winston  next  week,  told  me 
they  were  having  a  fac-simile  of  the  letter 
engraved,  and  as  soon  as  the  cuts  came  they 
would  flood  the  district  with  them.  They 
sent  the  letter  to  Philadelphia  to  have  it 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  189 

engraved,  and  there  has  been  some  delay  in 
the  work,  or  it  would  have  been  published 
before  now.  Old  Yates  has  just  gotten  it, 
and  it  will  be  in  to-morrow's  Clarion. 
Society  is  on  tiptoe  to  see  it." 

"My  gracious!  Thompson,  this  must  be 
stopped.  You  must  see  old  Yates  and  buy 
him  off.  Tell  him  that  the  election  is  over, 
and  it  can  do  no  good  to  publish  it  now.  I 
will  give  him  a  thousand  dollars  to  suppress 
it.  It  will  kill  me  to  have  the  infernal  stuff 
published.  I  was  drunk  when  I  wrote  it." 

"  Well,  I  will  see  him,  but  you  ought  to  be 
punished  for  your  folly,  not  in  writing  the 
letter,  but  in  attacking  the  woman." 

"  And  I  have  been  punished,  the  Lord 
knows.  If  ever  a  mill-stone  was  hung 
around  a  man's  neck  this  thing  has  been  one 
around  mine.  From  the  day  I  uttered  it  I 
would  willingly  have  cut  off  my  left  ear  to 
have  recalled  the  words.  But  here,  here  is 
a  check  for  the  money  ;  see  the  old  hound 
and  buy  him  off.  And  if  you  can't  do  that, 
let  me  know,  and  I  will  take  my  shot-gun 
and  blow  his  addled  brains  out.  I  shah1 
burn  his  office  and  him  in  it  before  this 
thing  shall  get  to  my  wife. " 

"  I  think  I  can  buy  him,"  accepting  the 
check.  "And  now,  gentlemen,  we  had  just 


190  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

as  well  break  up  the  rendezvous.  There  is 
no  further  need  of  gathering  here  to  hear 
the  news." 

"No,"  acquiesced  Lawson,  "the  news 
will  reach  us  soon  enough,  God  knows.  If 
there  is  any  deficiency  in  the  campaign 
funds,  let  me  know  and  I  will  settle  it,"  and 
the  crestfallen  and  badly  beaten  man  seized 
his  hat  and  made  a  dash  for  the  door, 
strongly  debating  in  his  own  mind  whether 
to  go  out  and  hang  himself,  or  else  to  get 
gloriously  drunk  and  go  home  and  have  it 
out,  at  once,  with  his  wife. 

"Served  the  blasted  fool  right.  I  knew 
his  election  last  time  was  the  result  of  acci- 
dent, and  that  his  renomination  was  a  mis- 
take ;  the  conceited  puppy,"  muttered  the 
chairman,  as  he  adjourned  the  committee 
sine  die,  and  went  out  to  console  himself 
for  the  loss  of  his  money  in  the  inspiring 
bouquet  of  a  brandy  cock-tail. 

Thompson  went  straight  to  the  bank,  and 
getting  his  check  cashed,  walked  over  to  the 
office  of  the  Clarion,  where  he  found  the 
editor  too  busy  arranging  and  jubilating 
over  a  column  of  roosters,  to  even  notice 
his  presence,  until  the  urgency  of  his  busi- 
ness made  itself  known. 

"  I  came  to  see  you,  Mr.  Yates,  in  behalf 
of  my  friend  Lawson — 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  191 

"  He  wants  a  retraction  ?  Damned  if  I  do 
it.  And  if  he  wants  a  fight  he  can  get  it." 

"No,  no  !  You  mistake  the  tenor  of  my 
visit.  My  mission  is  one  of  peace  altogether. 
Now  that  the  canvass  is  over,  we  all  can 
afford  to  be  friends  again.  He,  Lawson, 
feels  his  defeat  keenly,  and  is  truly  sorry 
for  any  personal  bitterness  that  has  been 
engendered  by  the  campaign,  and  now  that 
the  election  is  over,  and  we  concede  our 
defeat,  he  begs  that  the  personalities  be 
stopped." 

"You  mean  that  we  are  not  to  crow? 
That  I  am  to  suppress  my  roosters  ?  Egad, 
sir,  that  I'll  never  do.  This  is  the  first  time 
since  the  Clarion  has  been  ringing  that  we've 
had  a  chance  to  crow,  and  egad,  sir,  I  intend 
to  let  her  crow.  See  here,  sir,  a  -hundred 
dollars  worth  of  new  roosters  just  in  from 
Philadelphia,  bought  on  purpose  for  this 
occasion,  and  you  must  take  me  for  a  bald- 
headed  idiot,  if  you  think  I  will  go  and 
wring  their  necks  off  without  one  of  the 
longest  and  loudest  crows  that  ever  sent  the 
whigs  sneaking  back  to  their  dens.  No,  sir  ; 
we've  whipped  the  fight  and  we  are  .bound 
ter  crow." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  understand  that.  We  expect 
you  to  crow.  As  you  well  say,  it  is  the  first 


192  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

chance  you  have  ever  had  to  crow,  and  it 
will  be  the  last,  so  you  should  make  the  best 
of  the  opportunity,  and  crow  your  loudest. 
But  what  I  want  is  that  spoony  letter  of 
Lawson's  ? " 

"  What  letter  ? "  wonderingly  but  sly. 

"  Oh,  you  know,  that  infernal  silly  stuff 
he  wrote  to  Miss  Hardie  ? " 

"  Oh,  ho,  that's  it,  is  it  ?  I  wouldn't  take  a 
thousand  dollars  for  that,  the  best  trick  in 
the  hand.  What  a  pity  we  hadn't  got  it 
before  the  election  ;  the  blankest,  spooniest, 
softest  sugar  a  love-sick  feller  ever  tried  to 
poke  in  a  girl's  ear  ;  ha-ha-ha,"  laughed  the 
jolly  editor,  catching  the  cue. 

"Yes,  its  use  before  the  election  would 
have  been  legitimate,  although  in  question- 
able taste,  but  now,  Mr.  Yates,  after  the  thing 
is  all  over,  and  you  have  licked  us  so  infer- 
nally slick,  don't  you  think  that  it  would  be 
magnanimous  to  suppress  it?  Consider 
his  wife,  she  is  really  an  excellent  lady." 

"Yes,  and  he  should  have  considered 
Winston's  wife." 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course  it  was  very  wrong 
in  him,  outrageous,  in  fact,  but  a  blanked 
lucky  thing  for  your  sidel  It  turned  the  tide 
and  lost  us  the  election." 

"Yes,    it  was  a  boomerang  that  kicked 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  193 

back  worse  than  an  old  army  musket," 
laughed  Yates. 

"  Indeed  it  was,  and  I  should  think  that 
the  mortification  of  knowing  this  would  be 
punishment  enough  without  taunting  him 
with  his  asinine  folly." 

' '  Folly  !  it  was  something  worse  than 
folly  ;  it  was  pure,  low,  down,  unadulterated 
cussedness. " 

"Well,  let  us  call  it  that,  and  I  need  not 
assure  you  that  his  friends  were  equally 
indignant  when  they  heard  of  it.  But  now, 
that  is  all  over,  and  the  laches  proved  as 
you  know  such  a  lucky  thing  for  Winston,  I 
must  try  to  get  you  to  let  the  matter  drop. 
In  fact,  Mr.  Yates,  to  corne  down  to  busi- 
ness, I  will  say  that  Lawson  is  willing  to 
pay  you  dearly  for  any  expense  in  cuts  or 
composition  you  have  been  at,  if  you  will 
suppress  all  further  publications  on  the  sub- 
ject. Here,"  displaying  the  roll  of  bills, 
"he  sends  you  one  thousand  dollars  which 
I  am  authorized  to  give  you  if  you  will  kill 
all  the  matter  you  have  on  it;  on  the  subject 
of  the  letter,  I  mean,  and  will  not  publish 
another  line  on  the  subject." 

"  For  all  time,  you  mean  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  only  for  this.  If  we  are  fools 
enough  to  ever  nominate  him  again,  you  are 

"I  Q 


194  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

welcome  to  resurrect  and  use  it  then.  It 
is  only  now  that  he  wishes  it  suppressed  on 
account  of  his  wife." 

1  'Very  well,  I  will  take  it,"  grasping 
the  money,  "for  the  sake  of  his  wife  and 
the  peace  of  his  family.  I  don't  like  to  do  it 
though." 

"  And  you  will  destroy  the  cuts  ?" 

"  What,  my  roosters  ?  Suppress  my  roost- 
ers and  hush  my  crow  ?  No — sir — ee — bob. 
Here,  take  your  money  back.  I  wouldn't 
do  without  my  crow  for  twice  this  amount," 
offering  the  money  back. 

"  No,  not  the  roosters  ;  blank  the  roosters, 
let  them  burst  their  leaden  throats  crowing, 
for  all  I  care.  I  mean  the  cut  of  that  infer- 
nal letter." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  with  a  sudden  revelation.  "I 
see  now,  I  see.  I  didn't  quite  understand  at 
first.  I  thought  you  wanted  the  roosters 
too.  But  I  see  now,  ah,  I  see!  Well,  yes-er, 
yes,  I  see,  I  see,  yes,  I  will  suppress  it.  And 
not  another  line  about  the  letter  shall 
appear  in  the  Clarion,  that  is,  until  the  next 
campaign. " 

"Very well,  I  can  trust  you.  Good-day, 
sir,"  bowing  himself  out. 

"Good-day,  sir,"  closing  the  door  after  his 
visitor,  "Well,  well,  well!  if  this  don't 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  195 

beat  old  Tucker  himself.  The  best  joke  of 
the  whole  campaign  !  Ha-ha-he-he-ho-ho, 
the  blamed  fool,  ha-ha-he-he,  thought  that  I 
had  an  engraved  copy  of  the  letter,  ho-ho! 
I  wonder  what  letter  he  means,  ha-ha,  and 
was  going  to  publish  it,  ho-ho,  and  sends 
me  all  this  money  to  suppress  it  !  he-he-ho- 
ho!  Cock-a-doodle-doo!  I  feel  like  crowing 
myself.  Let  me  see,"  counting  the  bills, 
"  yes,  a  cool  thousand,  bully  for  me,  I  ought 
not  to  take  it,  perhaps,"  sobering  up  a  little 
at  the  honest  qualm,  "  seeing  as  it  was  all  a 
mistake.  No,  I  ought  not.  But  then  it  is 
too  good  a  joke  to  lose,  ha-ha-he-he, — yes,  it 
is  too  good  to  lose,  and  it  serves  the  cuss 
right,  ha-ha,  and  besides  it  will  get  Carrie  a 
piano.  Bless  her  sweet  heart!  I  will  make 
her  a  Christmas  present.  Yes,  I'll  do  that 
very  thing.  I'll  order  it  right  away — one 
of  Knabe's  best.  My  !  my  !  what  a  lucky 
streak  !  I  think  I  must  tell  Wat  and  the 
boys.  It's  too  good  to  keep,  ha-ha-he-he, 
bully — bully — bully  !  The  fool  isscaredof  his 
wife  !  A  thousand  dollars  to  keep  her  from 
seeing  the  letter  !  What  a  tennigant  she 
must  be,  to  be  sure!  I'll  get  Wat  and  the 
boys  and  we'll  have  a  spree,  mulct  me  for  a 
parson  if  I  don't,  ha-ha-ha!  "  and  holding  his 
sides  to  keep  them  from  splitting,  the  jolly 


196  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL, 

editor  turned  to  resume  his  muster  of  crow- 
ing roosters.  But  he  was  too  exuberant  to 
do  anything,  and,  turning  the  exultant  col- 
ume  over  to  his  foreman,  he  seized  his  hat 
and  hurried  out  to  find  Wat  and  the  boys, 
and  to  have  a  drink  and  a  laugh  and  then 
a  laugh  and  a  drink  over  the  joke.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  Wat  and  the  boys  were 
easily  found  and  enjoyed  the  joke  and  the 
glass  and  then  the  laugh  and  another  glass, 
each  glass  giving  pungency  to  the  risibility 
of  the  joke,  and  each  laugh  calling  for 
another  glass.  Indeed,  the  risibility  of  the 
joke  and  the  exhilarating  effects  of  the  glass, 
combined  with  the  general  enthusiasm  in- 
spired by  the  good  news  which  continued 
to  pour  in  upon  the  democratic  headquar- 
ters, had  such  an  inspiriting  effect  upon  the 
usually  sober  and  decorous  Walter  Graves, 
as  to  completely  upset  the  equilibrium  of  his 
dignity,  and  he  astonished  his  gentle  fiancee, 
a  few  minutes  after,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
little  fright  he  gave  her,  by  bursting  into 
her  drawing-room  with  a  Comanchee  yell, 
and  a  ' '  Whoop-pee  huzza,  for  the  peg  bot- 
toms !  I  Golly,  Gussie,  we've  got  'em.  Here 
let's  take  a  kiss  in  honor  of  our  victory," 
and  before  the  startled  lady  could  protest  the 
had  her  in  his  arms  exploding  kisses  like  the 
popping  of  a  string  of  fire-crackers. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  197 

"  Why,  Walter,  Mr.  Graves!  What  do  you 
mean  ? "  she  gasped  as  soon  as  she  could 
catch  her  breath,  and  pushing  him  away 
with  instinctive  energy,  and  hardly  knowing 
whether  to  laugh  or  to  cry. 

"I  mean,  darling,  there,  Gussie,  you 
needn't  run,  don't  be  scared,  I  am  not 
drunk,  only  the  news  is  just  too  good  for 
anything.  It's  enough  to  make  a  fellow  feel 
good  all  over  ;  I  could  hug  the  whole  of 
creation  ;  now  don't,  Gussie,  I  just  can't  help 
it.  Why  the  bottom  pegs  or  I  mean  the  peg- 
bottoms  are  on  top.  Yes,  they  are  for  a 
fact.  They  just  came  down  like  a  thousand 
of  brick  and  have  smashed  the  everlasting 
demnition  bow-wows  out  of  the  pumpsoles. 
Dave  is  elected,  world  without  end,  amen, 
whoop-pee  ! " 

"Hush,  Walter,  you  must  not.  But 
please  tell  me,  is  it  true  ?  "  the  pleasing  pos- 
sibility overcoming  the  little  fright  and 
puzzled  anger  that  so  womanly  resented  her 
lover's  boisterous  intrusion. 

"True  !  To  be  sure  it  is  true.  Do  you 
think  that  I  would  go  whooping  around 
town  with  the  boys  like  a  boiled  owl  if  it 
wasn't  true.  Certain,  it  is  true.  The  pump- 
soles  have  given  it  up  and  gone  home,  the 
sickest  looking  set  youj  ever  saw,  Lawsou 


198  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

has  caved  ;  and,  Gussie,  lemme  tell  you, 
it's  the  richest  thing  that  ever  happened, 
ha-ha-he-he,  it's  enough  to  make  the  statue 
of  Mobe  herself  laugh  ;  I  have  just  laughed 
until  I  have  bursted  half  my  buttons  off, 
ha-ha-ho-ho,  now,  darling,  come,  don't  get 
scared  again ;  I  am  not  drunk ;  I  pledge 
you  my  word  and  honor  that  I  am  not 
drunk  ;  I'm  as  sober  as — as — the  last  man 
in  a  funeral  procession.  I  haven't  drank  a 
drop  before  to-day  since  Christmas.  You 
needn't  be  frightened,  Gussie,  I  tell  you  I 
am  so-so-o-ber,  and  will  behave  myself,  only 
this  thing  is — is  too  dev'lish  good  for  any- 
thing. Oh  !  I  do  wish  Dave  was  here  to 
help  me  laugh,  ha-ha-ha  !  Oh  !  Gussie,  come 
back,  please  don't  run ;  stay  just  a  minute 
and  let  me  tell  you,"  and  sobered  a  little  by 
the  lady's  rising,  color  and  an  unmistakable 
movement  towards  the  door,  he  lowered  his 
voice  and  went  on.  "  It's  about  the  letter — 
you  know  the  letter  ? " 

"What  letter?" 

"The  letter  Tom  Lawson  wrote  Miss 
Hardie,  the  one  you  told  me  about— 

"  Oh  Walter  !  you  know  I  never  told  you 
any  such  thing.  I  promised  her  that  I 
never  would  tell,"  with  a  quick  protest. 

"  Yes,  I  know,     Qf  course  you  never  told, 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  199 

but  I  only  guessed  it,  or  else  somehow  it  got 
out,  and  some  wag  went  to  Lawson  and 
told  him  that  we  had  the  letter  and  that  we 
intended  publishing  it  in  the  Clarion,  sand- 
wiched among  the  roosters,  and  the  poor 
fool  was  so  scared  that  his  wife  would  get 
hold  of  it ;  you  see,  Gussie,  he  stands  in 
mortal  terror  of  his  wife,  and  so  he  sent 
Dick  Thompson  with  a  thousand  dollars  to 
old  Yates  to  buy  him  off,  and  get  him  to 
suppress  it 

"But  they  could  not  publish  it,  for  no 
one  ever  sa'w  it  but  me,  and  I  saw  Grace  put 
it  in  the  fire  myself,"  again  protested  the 
lady,  still  in  a  confused  puzzle  to  know 
whether  her  lover  was  really  drunk  or 
threatened  with  a  mild  attack  of  lunacy. 

"  No  !  of  course  not,  there  was  no  copy, 
and  no  one  would  have  dreamed  of  publish- 
ing it  if  there  had  been  one.  It  was  only  a 
joke  played  on  Lawson.  Yates  himself,  at 
first  didn't  know  what  Dick  was  driving  at, 
but  it  flashed  upon  him  at  last  and  he  just 
scooped  it  in.  Only  think  !  a  thousand 
dollars  ! " 

"  Did  he  really  give  a  thousand  dollars  ? " 

"Yes!  a  round  thousand;  I  saw  the 
money  myself." 

"And  Mr.  Yates  took  it?" 


200  DA  FID  ^i^D  ABIGAIL. 

"  Yes  !  and  he  went  straight  to  Crews  and 
sent  it  off  for  a  piano  for  his  daughter. 
And  now  tell  me,  Gussie,  if  it  isn't  the  best 
thing  that  ever  happened,  and  that  you 
don't  mind  me  taking  a  little  spree  over  it  ? " 

"  If  he,  the  wretch  didn't  deserve  every- 
thing that  is  mean,  I  should  say  that  it  was 
mean  in  Mr.  Yates  to  take  the  money." 

"Yes,  but  you  see  it  served  him  right ; 
it's  a  part  of  his  punishment.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  that,  old  Yates  would  not  have 
touched  a  single  cent  of  it,  but  just  to  pay 
him  for  his  malicious  fling  he  took  it.  But 
now,  won't  he  look  blank  when  he  finds  it 
out?" 

"  He  should  demand  his  money  back." 

"No,  he  cannot  do  that.  Yates  only 
promised  not  to  publish  anything  more 
about  the  letter,  a  thing  he  had  no  idea  of 
doing  at  first.  But  now,  Augusta,  I  see  that 
I  have  somehow  frightened  you,  and  I  shall 
go.  You  must  not  be  too  severe  on  me  ;  the 
news  is  so  good  and  the  joke  was  so  laugh- 
able and  the  boys  are  all  such  jolly  good 
fellows,  that  I  just  couldn't  help  it,  I've 
swored  off  though,  as  old  Rip  says,  and  I'll 
not  do  so  any  more.  Please  forgive  me  !  " 

"Yes,  I  understand;  but  oh!  Walter, 
this  is  all  so  sad,  so  hard  and  cruel  to  poor 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  201 

Grace,  and  so  happy  and  jolly  and  ludi- 
crous to  everybody  else.  Please  promise 
me,  Walter,  that — that — you  will — will — 
noi^ 

"Touch  a  single  drop?"  he  interrupted, 
touched  and  sobered  by  the  tears  that  came 
swelling  in  the  eyes  of  his  sweetheart. 
"  Oh,  darling,  I  promise." 

"  No,  not  that,  but  that  you  will  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  this  unseemly 
revel.  It  should  not  be  a  matter  of  levity 
to  us,  when  it  was  such  a  hurt  to  her.  Of 
course  we  are  glad  that  brother  Dave  is 
elected,  but — but — oh,  you  cannot  know  !  " 

"  Well — well,  never  mind  ;  I  shall  not  ask 
to  know  ;  I  see  that  you  are  distressed 
and  your  distress  has  sobered  me.  I  shall 
go  straight  to  my  office  and  go  to  work ; 
bye-bye  !" 

"Bye-bye;"  and  to  show  her  forgiveness 
she  gave  him  a  kiss,  very  sweet  but  scarcely 
so  sweet  as  the  one  he  had  so  incontinently 
stolen. 

"I  wonder,"  he  queried  to  himself  as 
he  went  away,  sobered  in  truth  by  the 
gravity  of  the  lady's  manner,  "I  wonder 
what  makes  Augusta  so  sad  of  late.  I  am 
sure  that  at  any  other  time  she  would  not 


202  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

have  minded  so  seriously  this  little  jollity  of 
mine.  It  must  be  something  about  David 
and  his  wife.  I  wonder  if  there  is  anything 
wrong  about  the  girl  ?  she  has  never  been 
received  in  the  family  yet ;  and  only  last 
evening  when  I  asked  Gussie  to  introduce 
me  to  her  she  was  positively  upset.  It 
would  be  very  foolish  in  them  to  be 
ashamed  of  her  low  origin  now  that  he  has 
married  her.  He  should  have  thought 
about  all  this  before.  There  is  something 
not  altogether  clear  about  the  matter.  The 
marriage  itself  was  a  surprise  to  everybody. 
However,  it  was  a  lucky  thing  for  Dave,  for 
it  has  elected  him  dead  certain.  He  would 
have  been  badly  beaten,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  pegbottom  alliance.  He  will  be  home 
to-morrow,  and  then  I  will  know  ;  he  cannot 
fail  to  introduce  me  to  his  wife,  and  from 
what  Gussie  first  said  about  her  he  need  not 
be  ashamed  to  introduce  her  to  any  one." 

It  was  in  the  evening  of  the  next  day 
before  David  Winston  returned,  and  though 
he  came  back  in  the  flush  of  a  proud  tri- 
umph, with  the  laurel  crown  of  victory 
circling  his  brow,  he  felt  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  a  shrinking  back  in  shame  as  he 
entered  his  father's  house  and  made  his  way 
unannounced  into  the  presence  of  his  sister. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  203 

They  exchanged  silent  kisses,  and  stood 
some  moments  speechless-,  and  then  Augusta 
had  to  break  the  silence. 

"  I  suppose  that  you  are  elected  ?  " 

"Yes  !  Thanks  to  the  irony  of  Momus  ; 
How  his  sardonic  chops  must  have  grinned 
with  grim  delight  as  he  saw  what  a  travesty 
on  Democracy  he  was  making  !  Vox  populi, 
vox  Dei — pah  !  what  a  lie.  It  is  the  laugh 
of  the  gods.  I  am  utterly  disgusted  with 
the  whole  thing,  and  had  it  not  been  that  I 
could  spit  my  scorn  in  the  face  of  that  scoun- 
drel, I  would  be  glad  to-night  if  I  had  been 
beaten.  It  is  only  that  it  avenges  her  upon 
him  that  I  am  glad." 

"  Ah  !  I  am  glad  that  you  have  won,  and 
especially  from  him.  But,  oh  !  my  brother, 
what  a  humiliating  thought  that  you  owe 
your  election  to  one  whom  you  have  so 
cruelly  wronged,"  she  answered  sadly. 

"It  is  not  the  humiliation ;  that  could  be 
endured.  It  is  a  weightier  sense  than  that  ; 
a  remorse  more  gnawing  than  any  hurt  of 
wounded  pride  is  eating  in  my  soul.  I  could 
be  content  to  owe  everything  that  I  have, 
or  ever  expect  to  have—  -all  the  good  that  is 
possible  to  be  in  my  life — to  her  and  her  alone, 
if  I  could  only  recall  the  blasphemous  words 
and  thoughts  I  had  registered  in  my  soul 


204  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

against  her.  But,  sister,  I  must  not  think  or 
speak  about  her.  It  will  be  best  for  her 
name  never  to  be  spoken  between  us.  I  am 
going  away  to-morrow,  and  shall  be  gone 
all  winter — 

"To  avoid  her  ?"  interrupting. 

"Yes!  I  must  be  frank  with  you.  I 
could  not  dare  to  meet  her." 

"  Then  you  need  not  go  for  that.  She  is 
already  gone ': 

"Gone!" 

"Yes.  She  left  the  very  day  she  received 
your  letter.  She  went  to  Charleston  and 
from  there  sailed  to  Liverpool.  She  is  by 
this  time  nearly  across  the  ocean — 

"  To  Liverpool ;  across  the  ocean  !  "  he  re- 
peated. "  Did  her  father  go  with  her  ?  " 

"No.  She  went  with  a  lady  friend,  a 
Mrs.  Whiting,  the  wife  6f  a  cotton  mer- 
chant. She  is  in  good  hands." 

"  This  is  horrible  !  " 

"No.  It  seems  that  they  had  already  ar- 
ranged for  the  trip,  before  you  came  in  and 
interrupted  the  arrangement,  but  when  you 
so  meanly  cast  her  off  again,  she  thought 
that  it  would  be  best  for  you  that  she 
should  go,  and  now  she  is  gone.  It  was  very 
good  in  her,  I  am  sure,  and  very  brave ;  I 
should  not  have  gone  a  step,  but  would  have 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  205 

stayed  and  plagued  your  life  out.  If  Walter 
was  to  treat  me  so  when  we  marry  I 
wouldn't  speak  to  him  ever  again  to  save 
his  life." 

"  Ah  !  But  Wat  could  not  do  such  a  cruel 
thing.  I  doubt  if  in  all  the  wide,  wide 
world  another  man  could  be  found  capable 
of  such  a  despicable  meanness.  But  I  am. 
very  sorry  that  she  is  gone.  I  could  not 
have  asked  such  a  sacrifice  of  her.  I  had 
rather  have  gone  myself  to  Australia,  to  Hin- 
dostan,  to  Timbuctoo,  to  the  uttermost  parts 
of  the  earth,  than  to  have  further  disturbed 
her  life.  It  does  seem  that  she  is  determined 
to  overwhelm  me  utterly  with  the  proofs  of 
her  goodness  and  the  sense  of  my  own  un- 
worthiness.  I  was  wretched  enough  be- 
fore, but  this — this  is  the  hardest  blow  of  all," 
and  sinking  down  he  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands  and  sobbed  like  a  woman. 

For  more  than  a  moment  he  cried,  and 
then  putting  away  the  weakness  he  started 
up  and  asked  : 

"And  does  she  not  know  that  her  going 
thus  will  compromise  her  reputation ;  will 
subject  her  name  to  scandal  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  she  is  fully  sensible  of  all  the 
danger.  She  said  that  Mrs.  Grundy  must  have 
some  one  to  talk  about  and  her  talking  would 


206  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

affect  her  as  little  as  it  could  any  one  ;  and 
then  she  begged  me  so  piteously  not  to  think 
her  utterly  bad,  and  then  she  kissed  me  good- 
bye, and  oh  !  my  brother,  it  was  the  saddest 
good-bye  that  was  ever  spoken,  and  you 
can  never,  never  know  what  a  treasure  you 
have  lost,"  and  now  it  was  the  sister's  turn 
to  go  off  into  a  little  heart-burst  of  tears. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AFTER    THE    DARKNESS   COMETH   LIGHT. 

A  MONTH  had  gone  by  since  the  wedding 
of  Miss  Augusta  Winston  and  Mr.  Walter 
Graves.  The  brilliancy  of  that  fashionable 
event  gave  society  a  toothsome  pabulum  for 
a  fortnight,  and  then  its  ravenous  alembic 
began  to  hunger  for  a  mess  of  scandal.  It 
is  strange  that  the  same  delicate  taste  that 
revels  in  the  dainty  lusciousness  of  a  rich, 
ripe  strawberry,  can  lapse  into  the  malo- 
dorous pungency  of  Limburger  cheese,  and 
codfish  balls  ;  but  so  it  is,  and  so,  too,  with 
society  ;  the  same  little  pinky  ears,  cocked, 
so  charmingly,  to  hear  the  pleasing  and  deli- 
cate details  of  a  marriage  fete,  are  equally 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  207 

ready  to  flop  in  prurient  delight  to  hear  the 
shocking  concomitants  of  a  divorce,  or  an 
elopement. 

Bergavonia  having  surfeited  itself  upon 
the  dainty  tid-bits  of  Miss  Winston's  wed- 
ding, began  to  long,  with  a  kind  of  dyspep- 
tic peccancy  for  the  titillating  pungency  of 
the  cheese.  This  Mrs.  Grundy  had,  extra 
flavored  by  its  long-keeping. 

The  absence  of  Mrs.  David  Winston,  whom 
they  were  all  on  the  qui  vive  to  see,  from 
the  wedding  of  his  sister,  had  been  noted 
and  silently  wondered  at,  but,  in  deference 
to  her  husband's  prominence,  had  not  been 
openly  spoken  of.  It  was  only  when,  by  a 
questionable  dickering  with  the  servants 
and  a  surreptitious  peep  for  herself  through 
the  back  witidow,  that  that  amiable  lady 
stood  aghast  at  the  horrid  discovery  of  the 
bride's  absence,  not  only  from  her  young 
husband's  bed,  but  from  her  sorrowing 
father's  board,  as  well.  And  then,  with  the 
hearty  zest  of  a  modern  evangelist  preach- 
ing hell-fire  and  damnation  to  a  gathering 
of  Sunday-school  children,  she  began  the 
delectable  task  of  "  telling  it  in  Gath  "  and 
admonishing  prudery  by  expatiating  upon  the 
shocking  particulars  of  the  flight  of  the 
naughty,  naughty  bride  of  a  week. 


208  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

It  had  perplexed  the  family  to  determine 
how  best  to  meet  the  matter.  David  had 
proposed  to  take  Mrs.  Grundy  boldly  by  the 
nose  and  forestall  her  evil  tongue  by 
publicly  acquitting  his  wife  of  all  blame, 
and  proclaim  his  own  sorrowful  condem- 
nation. Against  this  Judge  Winston  pro- 
tested : 

"Until  the  finger  of  reproach  points  to 
her  name,  there  is  no  occasion  for  us  to 
speak.  Meanwhile  it  can  be  given  out  that, 
in  pursuance  of  a  previously  arranged  pro- 
gramme, Abigail  had,  with  the  consent 
and  approbation  of  her  father,  and  of  our 
family,  gone  on  a  traveling  tour  to  Europe, 
with  friends  whom  she  knew,  and  whom 
we  could  trust,  and  that  when  she  was  to 
return,  was  a  matter  that  could  not  concern 
any  one  but  her  family." 

"Yes,"  supplemented  Augusta,  "and  I 
can  tell  everybody,  all  my  friends  and  every- 
body else,  what  a  sweet  lady  she  really  and 
truly  is,  and  how  very,  very  dearly  we  all 
love  her." 

"  Very  well,"  acquiesced  David,  "  only  no 
taint  of  blame  or  wrong  must  be  attached 
to  her,"  and  then  supplementing  the  pro- 
viso with  a  punitive  corollary,  "and  I  shall 
pull  the  vile,  slandering  tongue  out  by  the 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  209 

roots  that  shall  dare  to  whisper  a  doubt 
against  her  honor." 

And  so,  for  its  little  day,  Mrs.  Grundy 
detailed  the  spice  and  society  sneezed  on  the 
sly,  but  the  spice  soon  lost  its  titillating  pun- 
gency, and  the  Christmas  gayeties  coming 
on,  set  the  pumpsoles  to  dancing,  and  in  the 
winking  at,  and  trying  to  hide  their  own 
little  frailties  and  follies,  the  poor  exiled 
wife  was  left  to  pursue  her  loveless  wander- 
ings in  the  lands  across  the  sea,  unnoticed 
if  not  unforgotten. 

Only  in  one  home  was  she  missed,  in  one 
sad  heart  was  her  absence  an  ever  present, 
ever  aching  void.  The  poor  old  man,  her 
father,  had  never  smiled  since  the  day  she 
went  away.  And  now  Christmas  was 
near,  and  the  growing  brightness  in  other 
homes  and  in  other  hearts  seemed  only  to 
make  the  darkness  more  dreary  and  cold  in 
his. 

It  was  the  day  before  Christmas  that  he 
called  Sam  to  his  room  : 

"  Sam,  tell  Bob  ter  run  over  an'  tell  Jedge 
Winston  ter  come  over.  I  wants  ter  see 
'im  on  a  pint  ov  law,"  he  ordered. 

Bob  hurried  away,  and  within  an  hour 
Judge  Winston  was  with  the  old  man. 

"  I  sent  fer  ye,  Jedge,  ter  ax  you  ter  sorter 
14 


210  DA  PID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

look  over  this  paper,  an'  see  zif  hit  is  right. 
I've  bin  a  tryin'  ter  fix  up  a  will,  an'  I'd  like 
fer  you  ter  look  over  this  an'  see  if  hit  will 
stick  ? " 

The  Judge  adjusted  his  glasses  and  read, 
written  in  a  remarkably  firm  hand  for  such 
stiff  fingers. 

In  the  name  ov  God,  aymen  ;  this  endenture  witnesses 
that  I,  Israel  Hardie,  bein'  ov  soun'  mine  an'  in  my  rite 
senses,  makes  this  iny  will  and  testimony,  an'  hit  bein'  the 
onliest  one  I  ever  maid  in  my  life,  I  wants  hit  ter  stand  : 

Fust  an'  foermost,  I  don't  owe  enny  dels  as  I  knows  ov, 
but  if  I  do,  I  wants  them  all  pade.  Nex,  an'  secind,  an' 
strongest  ov  all,  I  wills  and  bequethe,  an'  gives  to  my 
lovin',  darter  Grace  Abigail  ever' thing  I  have  on 

God's  green  yeath,  ter  have  an'  ter  keep  hit  all,  to  witt  : 
Namely,  Houses  an'  Lans,  an'  Niggers,  Hosses  and  Muils 
an  Kattle,  Hogs  an'  Sheeps,  an'  Gotes,  Craps  an'  waggins, 
House,  an'  kichen  furnitur,  Tools,  et  Cet  e  Ra,  Munny, 
Noats,  Rale  rode  stocks,  Bank  stocks,  Stait  an'  County 
bons,  an'  all.  Everthing  ter  be  hern,  ter  do  with  tliest  as 
she  pleases,  only  I'd  like  fer  her  ter  give  all  the  Niggers  a 
Chrismus  present  ter  remember  me  by,  an'  I  laves  hit  ter 
her  ter  say  how  much.  I  also  don't  ever  want  her  ter  let 
ole  Ben  an'  his  wife  Sharlit  be  soled,  but  ter  see  that  they 
is  allers  tooked  good  kare  ov,  kase  they  corned  by  her 
Mammy.  Nex',  third,  I  appint  Jedge  Arther  Winston  as 
administrator,  ad  cap  tandem,  de  bon  is  non,  or  what  yer 
ma'  call  it,  ov  the  es  Tate,  ter  look  arter  it,  tell  Abby  conies 
hoam.  Also  ter  act  as  gardeen  fer  her  as  long  as  six-  needs 
one.  Nex',  fourth,  an'  last,  all  my  papers  is  in  good  shape, 
an'  will  be  found  in  the  lurn  safe — Sam  will  givo  him  the 
key,  az  soon  az  I  am  dead  an'  gone.  In  witness  ov  all  this, 
I've  signed,  sealed  and  delivered  this,  on  this  the  twenty 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  211 

seckun'  day  ov  December,  in  the  Year  Of  Our  Lord  anny 
dommyny  18  hundred  an'  54.     Sined  in  the  presence  ov  two 

witnesses  : 

"  ISRAEL  HAKDIE." 


Witnesses,]         oIte'  (both  freellolders)- 


"Will  hit  do,  Jedge?"  after  the  judge 
had  finished  the  reading. 

"Yes,  this  will  hold  in  law.  It  might  be 
put  in  better  form,  perhaps,  but  it  could  not 
be  made  more  intelligible  or  explicit.  Only 
I  note  a  hiatus  after  the  name  of  your 
daughter,  do  you  wish  that  filled  ?  " 

"Nan?" 

"I  mean  a  blank  after  the  names,  Grace 
Abigail  —  do  you  wish  that  filled  ?  " 

"Ah,  yes  !  I  sees.  Well,  yes  —  only,  Jedge, 
1  waz  a  leetle  jubus  on  that  pint.  I  waz 
unsertain  thest  how  Abby  stan's  in  law,  an' 
so  I  left  hit  blank  until  I  axed  you  'bout  it." 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  sad,  and  I  am  very  sorry, 
but  there  is  no  legal  difficulty  about  her 
name.  She  has  the  right  by  law  to  the 
name  of  Winston.  That  is  her  legal  name." 

"  Well,  I  warn't  perzactly  sertin,  and  so  I 
left  it  out.  You  thest  fill  it  in,  or  —  no, 
mebby  I'd  best  ter  do  it  myseff,  az  I  writ 
the  rest  ov  it,"  and  taking  the  pen  he  filled 
the  blank,  making  it  read  Grace  Abigail 
Winston. 


212  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  An'  you'll  tend  ter  this,  Jedge  ?  I  hates 
ter  bother  you  with  sich  foolishness,  but  I'd 
rather  trust  you  than  anny  one  else,  an'  so 
hadAbby." 

"  Yes,  God  being  my  helper,  I  will  be  both 
a  guardian  and  a  father  to  your  daughter. 
But  I  hope,  Mr.  Hardie,  that  you  do  not 
apprehend  any  danger  of  a  speedy  dissolution, 
and  that  this  is  but  a  prudent  precaution 
that  every  man  ought  to  take  against  the 
certainty  of  death  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes!  I  hain't  skeered  ter  die,  an' 
don't  much  care  when  hit  comes.  If  hit 
warn't  fer  Abby,  I  bleeves  as  I'd  like  ter  go 
ter-night.  I  allers  did  sorter  want  ter  die  in 
Chrismus  times.  Hit  seems  ter  me  it  would 
be  a  good  time  ter  die  when  the  angels  war  all 
a  singing  over  the  horning  ov  Christ.  Mebby 
so  hit  wouldn't  be  sich  a  tight  squeeze  fer  an 
ole  sinner  like  me  ter  slip  in.  Yes,  Jedge, 
zif  hit  warn't  fer  Abby  I  bleeves  I'd  like  ter 
peg  out  this  blessed  night,  but  I  hates  ter 
leave  the  pore  gurrill  away  out  yander, 
knockin'  about  through  the  world  all  by  her 
lone  seff.  An'  asides  somehow  I'd  a  liked 
ter  see  her  one  more  time  afore  I  started. 
But  mebby  hit's  best  that  she's  away.  Hit 
won't  hurt  her  so  bad,  I  know,  fer  if  she  waz 
here  she'd  have  nothing  else  ter  do  but  ter  cry, 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  213 

while  thar  she'll  have  strange  sights  ter  see 
an'  friends  ter  talk  to,  an'  hit  won't  be  so 
bad  nor  so  lonesum.  Yes,  hit's  best,  Jedge, 
fer  her  that  she  iz  gone." 

"  Have  you  heard  from  her  ? "  with  a  pain- 
ful yearning  for  the  wanderer. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  got  a  letter  yisterdy,  an.' 
she  writes  that  she's  having  a  rael  nice  time. 
Thay  iz  monstus  good  ter  her — her  friends 
are,  an'  does  ever'thing  they  kin  ter  pacify 
her.  They  had  a  good  trip  an'  landed  safely. 
She  writ  as  they  had  a  nice  cottage  by  the 
river-side  ter  live  in,  an'  thay  waz  a  havin' 
lots  er  fun  seein'  the  theaters  an'  the  opper- 
rys,  an'  sich  like,  an'  ever'thing  is  so  strange 
an'  new  ter  her.  Yes,  Jedge,  hit's  best  as 
she  iz  away  ;  she  won't  mind  it  so  much. 
An'  when  it  do  come,  Jedge,  I  wants  yer  ter 
write  ter  her  yourseff  an'  sorter  saffen  hit 
down-like  ter  her,  az  much  az  yer  kin.  Tell 
her  that  hit  waz  all  well  with  me,  an'  fer 
her  not  ter  cry,  and  fer  her  not  ter  come  home 
on  my  account  at  all,  but  thest  ter  make 
herseff  at  home  annywhar  she's  a  mine  ter. 
The  same  God  as  would  bless  her  here  kin 
bless  her  thar.  You  muss  send  her  all  the 
munny  she  wants,  hit's  all  hern,  nohow,  an' 
she  must  have  thest  az  much  az  she  wants. 
I  sent  her  yisterdy  a  bill  ov  exchange  fer 


214  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

three  thousan'  pounds,  but  she  must  have 
as  much  more  every  month  if  she  wants 
hit.  Hit  seems  like  hit  'as  only  made  her 
trubble,  an'  the  sooner  she  spends  hit,  mebby, 
the  better.  I'm  not  skeered  ov  her  wastin' 
hit;  though.  Abby  hain't  a  wasteful  gurrill, 
an'  kin  do  more  good  with  a  little  munny 
than  anny  other  feller  I  ever  seed.  She 
writ  that  zif  hit  warn't  fer  sellin'  an'  scat- 
terin'  the  niggers  that  she'd  like  fer  me  ter 
sell  out,  lock,  stock  an'  barrell  an'  go  over  an' 
let  us  liv'  together  over  thar.  If  I  thort  as  I 
could  hole  out  ter  reach  thar,  I'd  start  this 
verry  minnit.  This  place  here  in  this  grate 
big  house  is  gettin'  so  lonesum  'thout  her, 
that  I  skacely  kin  stan'  it.  Hit  'ill  never  be 
home  agin  ter  me  nor  ter  her." 

Judge  Winston  was  not  a  very  sym- 
pathetic man,  and  was  rarely  demonstrative 
in  the  expression  of  his  feelings,  but  some- 
how he  now  found  his  hand  unconsciously 
reaching  out  to  the  old  man's  and  a  strange 
moisture  gathering  in  his  eyes  as  he  an- 
swered : 

"I  shall  do  all  that  you  ask,  Mr.  Hardie, 
and  I  do  wish  that  I  could  add  something  to 
the  cheer  of  your  home.  My  own  is  Lonely 
now  that  my  daughter  is  gone.  I  do  trust 
that  the  sunshine  may  soon  gladden  yours 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  215 

again,  and  that  the  future  may  hold  many 
pleasant  hours  yet  in  store  for  you.  To- 
morrow is  Christmas  ;  Augusta  is  coming 
home  to  dinner.  Would  you  mind  coming 
too  ?  It  might  be  pleasant  to  you." 

"No,  I  reckon  not.  I  skasely  feels  strong 
anuff.  I  feels  myseff  a  failin'  mity  fast. 
But,  Jedge,  you  may  think  me  foolish  like, 
but  somehow  I  can't  help  the  hankerin',  but 
I'd  like  ter  see  David.  Is  he  at  home  ? " 

' '  He  is  at  home.  He  returned  this  morn- 
ing. He  has  been  to  Eichmond,  before  the 
United  States  district  court,  attending  to 
my  case.  And  by  the  by,  Mr.  Hardie,  it 
may  please  you  to  know  that  I  have  won  my 
suit  and  the  chances  are  now  favorable 
for  a  satisfactory  adjustment  of  the  matter 
without  any  further  litigation." 

' '  Ah,  has  you  ?  I  am  hones'ly  glad, 
shore's  yer  born  I  am.  Hit  '11  serve  ter  put 
you  on  yer  feet  agin." 

"  Yes,  and  now  I  can  pay  you  back  all  that 
you  have  been  so  good  as  to  advance  for 
me." 

"Please  don't  say  that,  Jedge,  yer  orten 
ter  say  that.  You  knows  as  I  didn't  mean 
that,  yer  knows  I  didn't, "  with  a  hurt  look. 

"No  —  no  —  I  know  that  you  never 
meant  anything  but  good-will  to  me  and 


216  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

mine,  only,  Mr.  Hardie,  you  cannot  under- 
stand what  a  humiliating  weight  it  is  we 
have  to  bear.  Of  course,  we  may  never 
hope  to  be  able  to  repay  the  full  debt  of 
gratitude  we  owe  you,  but  its  pecuniary 
obligations  should  and  must  be  satisfied.  I 
can  then  look  you  so  much  straighter  in  the 
face." 

"Very  well,  then,  zif  the  munny  is  ter 
sta'n  atwixt  us,  I  will  take  it  an'  put  hit 
ahine  us,  or  you  kin  thes  gin  it  ter  Abby 
when  I'm  gone.  Hit  will  hurt  her  ter  take 
it,  but  then  you  needn't  ter  let  on  ter  her 
how  it  come.  She  don't  know  nuffin'  about 
it  now,  an'  it  would  be  like  rippin'  up  ole 
sores  fer  you  ter  ever  tell  her." 
"And  you  have  never  told  her ? " 
"No,  no,  Abby  knows  nuffin'  'bout  my 
bizness  affairs.  I  never  pestered  her  about 
bizness,  kaze  I  never  thort  it  was  a  umman's 
bizness.  She  only  knows  as  I've  got  a  heap 
an'  hit's  all  fer  her,  nor  it  don't  make  a  fool 
of  her  nuther;  so  if  you  do  this  thing  you 
kin  thes  slip  it  in  with  the  tuther  an'  she'll 
never  know  the  difference.  It  would  hurt 
her  monstus,  Jedge,  fer  her  ter  know  ;  an' 
I  think  as  how  we've  hurt  the  pore  gurrill 
anuff  a'  ready  without  rubbin'  salt  on  the 
whelks." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL  217 

"Yes,  yes.  I  shall  never  knowingly  hurt 
her,  and  would  give  much  to  undo  the 
wrong  we  have  already  put  upon  her  fair 
young  life." 

"To  be  shore,  but  hit's  all  gone  now,  an' 
Abby  is  a  brave  gurrill,  or  'umman,  ruther, 
for  she's  a  'umman  now;  this  thing  haz  made 
a  f  ull-growed  'umman  outen  her.  She  hain't 
no  longer  the  frisky  laughin'  gurrill  she  was 
afore  that  mornin',  but  she's  a  sober- faced 
'umman.  She's  a  brave  one,  though,  she's 
true  grit  an'  will  git  over  this,  only  I  waz 
monstus  sorry  ter  see  her  so  cut  down.  Hit 
hurt  her  wuss  nor  you  think,  an'  wuss  nor 
she  lets  on.  But  then,  Jedge,  I  reckon  hit 
hurt  you  an'  David  too,  as  well's  her  an'  me  ; 
sich  things  allers  do.  One  can't  expect  ter 
lick  a  skillet  without  gittin'  his  nose  smutty. 
Hit  was  a  bad  thing  all  roun'  an'  we  must 
try  to  make  the  best  outen  hit  we  can. 
She's  gone  now,  plum,  outen  the  way  ov  it, 
an'  we  mustn't  let  it  bother  us  anny  more.  I 
wuz  ter  blame  more  than  annybody.  Hit 
warn't  Abby's  fault  at  all.  I  'suaded  her  in 
it,  an'  I  seed  it  went  agin  the  grain,  an'  had 
it  a  been  anny  uther  feller  than  David  I 
don't  believe  she  would  a  stood  it.  I  am 
monstus  sorry,  but  as  I  sed  afore,  I  would 
love  ter  see  David." 


218  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

11  Then  I  will  come  to-morrow  and  he  will 
come  with  me.  We  will  take  a  nogg  with 
you." 

"  Will  you  shore  anuff  ?  "  brightening  up. 
"  I'll  be  mighty  glad  ;  hit's  so  lonesome  here 
all  alone  by  myseff ,  with  no  one  but  the  nig- 
gers ter  talk  to.  I  hopes  as  he  won't  mine 
the  coming.  Tell  him,  Jedge,  that  hit's 
nuthin'  'bout  Abby  I  wants  ter  see  him  for. 
Hit's  thes  fer  my  own  seff,  I  wantster  see 
'im.  Nex'  ter  Abigail  I  loves  David  best 
ov  anny,  don't  you  mine  ? " 

"  Ah,  yes.  I  understand,  and  I  will  bring 
him.  And  now,  Mr.  Hardie,  I  must  go.  We 
will  come  to-morrow  to  help  you  make  a 
merry  Christmas,"  playfully  shaking  the 
bony  hand,  now  somehow  strangely  cold. 

"  David,"  he  said,  with  a  solemnity  of  tone 
that  startled  his  son  from  his  study  as  he 
found  him  in  the  library  at  home,  "  I  have 
just  come  from  Mr.  Hardie,  and  if  a  strong, 
robust  man  can  die  of  a  broken  heart,  that 
old  man  is  dying." 

-Dying?" 

"  Yes,  dying  ;  I  could  feel  the  very  shadow 
of  death  in  his  presence." 

"But  is  he  ill  ?  Does  he  need  attention  ? 
We  should  see  to  it  that  he  lacks  for  noth- 
ing." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  219 

"He  made  no  complaint,  but  I  am  sure 
that  he  is  ill,  mortally  ill.  He  has  made  his 
will  and  sent  for  me  to  review  it.  He  is 
fully  conscious  of  his  approaching  end  and  is 
ready  for  it.  His  heart  hungers  for  his 
child,  but  for  her  sake  he  is  glad  that  she  is 
away.  '  She  is  among  friends  there, '  he 
said,  'and  will  soon  get  over  it,  but  here 
she  would  have  no  one  to  comfort  her,  and 
she  would  have  nothing  else  to  do  but  to 
cry.'  It  was  piteous  to  hear  him,  and  I 
could  hardly  keep  from  crying  myself.  He 
leaves  his  property  intact  and  all  for  her, 
and  has  appointed  me  executor  of  the 
will— 

"  You  cannot  be  that  ? " , 

"Yes,  I  have  promised,  and  God  helping 
me  to  keep  the  trust,  I  intend  to  accept  it. 
It  is  little  enough  for  me  to  do  after  putting 
all  this  shame  and  sorrow  upon  her. " 

"  Did  he  speak  of  her  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  his  heart  is  full  of  nothing  else 
but  her.  He  expects  her  to  live  abroad  ; 
that  seems  to  be  her  wish,  and  %  if  he  could 
live  long  enough  he  would  join  her  in 
England." 

"  But  where  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  He  had  just  heard  from  her.  She  is 
pleasantly  installed  in  a  home  with  friends, 


220  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

in  or  near  Liverpool.  I  did  not  see  the 
letter,  but  he  seemed  well  satisfied  about  her 
surroundings.  But,  David,  he  wants  us  to 
call  on  him  to-morrow." 

"But  I  cannot  go.  I  haven t  the  im- 
pudence for  that." 

11  But  you  should  go.  It  is  not  to  reopen 
the  old  matter  that  he  wishes  to  see  you,  but 
out  of  the  kindest  feelings  for  yourself.  He 
begged  me  to  assure  you  that  it  was  not 
about  his  daughter  that  he  wished  to  see  you, 
but  only  for  yourself.  He  understands  that 
the  gulf  between  you  two  is  impassable 
now,  that  your  lives  must  forever  be  apart, 
but  he  says  that  he  loves  you  all  the  same 
"Next  to  Abigail,'  he  said,  'I  love  David  the 
best  of  any.'  It  was  really  touching,  and  I 
had  to  inwardly  bless  the  good  old  man  for 
his  strong  affection  for  my  son." 

"  But  why  should  he  love  me  ?  Is  it  to 
punish  me  that  he  would  shame  me  with  his 
love?" 

"No  !  It  is  an  artless,  unaffected  love,  and 
I  believe,  David,  that  it  is  that  that  has  act- 
uated him  in  all  this  unhappy  matter.  You 
should  not  despise  an  affection  so  unselfish 
and  sincere." 

"  No,  I  do  not  despise  it  ;  I  only  wish  that 
I  was  worthy  if  it.  But  knowing  what  you 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  221 

know,  father,  you  must  understand  that  his 
kindness  can  only  be  a  reproach  to  me.  Oh  ! 
how  glad  I  am  that  we  can  pay  him  back  his 
accursed  gold." 

"  I  spoke  to  him  about  that ;  I  really  hurt 
the  old  man,  but  finally  he  said  '  Well  I  ex- 
pect to  be  gone,  but  you  can  just  slip  it  in 
with  the  other  assets  and  let  Abby  know 
nothing  about  it.'  It  seems  that  she  is 
ignorant  of  the  transaction  now,  and  it  would 
hurt  her  to  ever  know.  'And  I  think,' he 
added  with  a  pathos  that  was  simply  touch- 
ing, '  that  we  have  slashed  the  poor  girl 
enough  without  rubbing  salt  in  the  wound." 

"  And  she  knows  nothing  of  all  this  moun- 
tain of  debt  we  owe  her  father  ?  " 

"  Nothing  !  absolutely  nothing  ;  and  he 
thinks  it  best  for  her  that  she  may  never 
know.  As  I  said,  he  requested  me  when  he 
was  gone  to  'slip  it  in  along  with  the  rest,' 
and  she  would  never  know  that  it  was  ever 
out.  It  was  a  thoughtful  consideration  of 
his — both  for  his  daughter's  feelings  and  for 
ours.  But  then  he  is  a  remarkable  man, 
David,  a  most  extraordinary  man.  Had  he 
been  born  to  the  station  to  which  he  has 
raised  himself,  he  would  have  been  distin- 
guished for  something  more  than  his  wealth. 
But  you  must  go  with  me  to-morrow.  We 


222  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

must  do  all  we  can  to  comfort  and  cheer  him 
in  his  desolate  loneliness." 

"Yes,  I  shall  go.  It  is  just  that  I  should 
be  punished  and  I  shall  bow  to  the  curse  ! 
And  oh  !  what  curse  could  lie  heavier  on 
my  soul  than  the  blessing  of  her  dying 
father  ! " 

"No,  my  son,  you  must  not  let  a  morbid 
remorse  overcome  your  reason  and  affect  the 
better  instincts  of  your  nature.  This  has 
been  an  unfortunate  affair  from  the  begin- 
ning, but  it  is  over  now,  and  we  must  not 
exaggerate  its  miseries.  She  is  gone  now, 
and  as  her  father  says  she  is  a  brave  woman, 
and  among  new  friends  and  in  a  strange  land 
she  will  soon  learn  to  forget  all  the  little  she 
had  learned  to  know  of  us  here.  And  you, 
too,  my  son,  are  young  and  can  outlive  it. 
You  have  much  to  live  for,  a  high  and  noble 
destiny  to  fill,  only  do  your  duty  like  a  man 
and  trust  the  good  God  to  bless  the  effort. 
And  now  let  us  go  over  the  Willoughby 
matter  again.  Give  me  a  synopsis  of 
General  Hull's  argument. "  And  in  a  crit- 
ical review  of  the  opposing  argument,  in 
that  interesting  case,  a  diversion  from  the 
subject  so  much  nearer  both  their  hearts, 
was  had,  if  not  a  complete  nepenthe  for  all 
its  humiliation  and  sorrow. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  223 

"  Howdy,  boys,  howdy  !  "  cried  the  old  gen- 
tleman that  cheery  Christmas  morning,  as  he 
went  out  in  the  hall  himself  to  welcome  his 
honored  guests  ;  "  I'm  glad  ter  see  yer,  Jedge, 
monstus  'glad,  an'  you  too,  David,  I'z  glad 
ter  see  you  too  ;  yes,  I  shorely  iz,"  grasping 
the  young  man's  hand  and  dragging  him 
in.  "Iwuz  a  little  jubus  as  yer  wan't  a 
coming,"  he  added  in  unconscious  extenu- 
ation of  the  effusiveness  of  his  greeting, 
"  Young  fokses  iz  young  fokses,  yer  know, 
an'  in  jolly  times  like  Chrismus  hain't  much 
time  ter  be  foolin'  long  with  old  codgers  like 
me.  Howsumever,  I  iz  monstus  glad  az 
you've  come  ;  fer  I  waz  gitting-  sorter  lone- 
sum  all  by  myseff,  so  come  erlong  right  in' 
both,  on  yer,  an'  we'll  have  a  nogg  an  a  sig- 
gar.  Chrismus  is  Chrismus,  yer  know,  an' 
don't  come  but  once  a  year.  I  'av'  thes  bin  a 
givin'  the  niggers  all  ov  thay  leetle  presents, 
and  thay  Chrismus  dram.  Chrismus  iz  a 
good  day  fer  niggers,  hain't  it  ?  Hit  allers 
make  me  glad  ter  see  'em, "  and,  as  if  to  belie 
the  cadaverous  look  of  pain  and  sorrow  in 
his  face,  the  old  man  put  on  a  jollity  of 
manner,  almost  ghastly  in  its  mockery. 

The  young  man  noticed  that  hollow  look  of 
care  and  sorrow  on  his  countenance,  and 
was  shocked  at  the  change  that  had  come 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


since  he  had  last  seen  him  on  that  un- 
lucky morning,  when,  like  a  serpent,  he  had 
crept  into  the  fair  Eden  of  his  home. 

11  Here,  Jedge,  take  this  seat  here,  close  to 
the  h'ath  so'z  yer  can  cock  yer  feet  on  the 
mantilpiece,  an'  yere  David  yer  can  set  yere, 
by  the  winder  so'z  yer  kin  look  outer  doors. 
Sam,  pile  on  a  leetle  more  wood  ;  gin  us  a 
armful  ov  sassifac.  Thar's  nubbuddy 
yere  but  we  uns,  an'  I  thes  wants  yer  ter 
make  yerseffs  at  home.  Now,  Sam,  send  in 
the  nog  an'  let's  have  the  siggars;  them  outen 
the  top  buro  drawer,  thay's  thest  splendid. 
'Tain't  offen  I  smokes  a  siggar,  I'd  ruther 
have  my  ole  cob-pipe,  but  thay's  the  best 
I  ever  tasted,  an'  asides,  David,  I  won  'em 
offen  yer  'lection,  so  ye  must  help  me  smoke 
'em.  Yes,  Jedge,  I  won  'em  offen  ole  Square 
Dox,  in  Sin-clare  county.  He  bet  me  that 
Tom  Lawson  would  carry  Sin-clare  by  two 
hunderd  votes  an  I  thes  tuck  'im  up,  a  box 
of  the  finest  siggars  in  the  store,  an  so  I 
had  Mr.  Hill  ter  pick  'em  out,  an'  thay  is 
good,  fer  a  fac.  Yes,  Sam,  these  am  thay," 
as  Sam  presented  a  box  of  Havanas.  ' '  But 
fust  fill  the  mugs."  The  mugs  were  filled 
with  the  foamy  nectar.  "An'  now,  my 
frien's,  here's  good  hick  an'  plenty  ov  it,  to 
you  both,  an'  ter  yer  famblys." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  225 

The  toast  was  drunk  in  solemn  gravity, 
and  then  the  cigars  were  lit. 

"  Eh,  Jedge  !  what  yer  think  ov  hit  ? "  as 
the  Judge  in  epicurean  delight  sent  the 
fragrant  smoke  daintily  curling  about  his 
head. 

"It  is  delightful  !  I  never  drew  a 
better." 

' '  Yes,  I  thinks  so,  an'  I  sent  the  Square  a 
han'ful  thest  ter  tantalize  'im.  But  warn't  it 
bully,  though,  David,  the  way  you  socked  it 
to  Tom?" 

"Yes.  It  was  very  gratifying  to  me  and 
to  my  friends,  but  I  have  to  thank  you,  Mr. 
Hardie,  for  my  election.  Without  you  and 
the  help  of  your  friends  I  should  have  been 
beaten." 

"Shoo,  man,  that's  nothin'.  Hit  done  me 
a  power  ov  good,  I  kin  tell  you.  I  thes 
wanted  ter  see  the  demmycrats  on  top  once 
more  afore  I  died,  an'  when  the  news  come 
that  you  waz  elected  shore  enough,  I  waz 
thes  willin'  ter  go  'long  rite  then,  at  once, 
zif  hit  had  a  been  the  will  ov  the  good 
Lord  to  a  tucked  me." 

"We  were  all  very  proud  of  the  victory," 
said  the  Judge. 

"In  course  we  ar',  an'  if  David'll  do  hiz 

level  best  f  er  the  State  an'  f  er  our  people  an' 
15 


220  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

never  go  back  on  the  demmycrats,  hit  'ill 
thes  be  the  makin'  ov  'ira,  shore.  But  I 
needn't  ter  tell  'im,  fer  I  knows  as  he'll 
never  renig." 

"I  should  think,  sir,"  the  young  man 
answered  gravely,  "that  if  I  was  ever 
tempted  to  betray  the  trust  my  friends  have 
so  generously  placed  in  me,  the  remem- 
brance of  your  goodness,  and  the  thought 
that  it  would  hurt  you  for  me  to  fail,  would 
be  sufficient  to  hold  me  loyal  and  faithful  to 
the  trust.  I  shall  always  remember  your 
kindness  and  the  remembrance  will  inspire 
me  to  duty." 

' '  Yes,  I  hain't  af eard  ter  trust  yer,  David. 
Only,  Jedge,  somehow  I  iz  a  feelin'  monstus 
quare.  That  nog  somehow  or  'nuther  don't 
set  well  on  my  stummick,  or  else  hits  the 
siggar.  I — I — feels  a  little  sick.  Sam,  I 
bleeves  yer  will  have  ter  come  and  help  me 
ter  bed.  Jedge,  an'  you  too,  David,  I'm 
sorry,  but  yer  11  have  ter  'scuse  me  a  minnit, 
I'll  have  ter  lay  down  a  minnit — I'm  thest 
ableeged  ter  lay  down." 

"  Yes,  yes,  let  me  help  you.  Lean  on  my 
arm,  please,"  cried  the  young  man,  springing 
to  his  side;  and  almost  bodily  lifting  him  in 
his  arms  he  carried  the  old  gentleman  to  his 
room. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  227 

"Send  for  his  physician,  at  once,"  said 
the  Judge,  as  they  placed  him  on  the 
bed. 

"  No,  no,  Jedge,  hit's  no  yuse;  the  jig's  up 
with  me  now.  I  thes  feels  hit  in  my  bones. 
This  iz  death  as  iz  makin'  me  feel  so  quare. 
Hit  ain't  the  nog,  nor  hit  ain't  the  siggars 
nuther,  but  hit's  death.  Well  hit's  got  ter 
come,  an'  az  I  sed  yistrrdy  I'd  ruther  it  'ould 
come  on  a  Chrismus  than  army  nuther  time 
in  the  world.  Only  lemme  tell  ye,  Jedge, 
afore  I  can't  ;  I  forgot  ter  tell  ye  yisterdy 
but  I'll  tell  yer  now.  Hit  don't  make  anny 
difference  whar  a  man's  put,  but  somehow 
I'd  ruther  sleep  'long  side  ov  Abby,  my  own 
Abby,  as  has  gone  afore,  an'  so,  Jedge,  you'll 
see  ter  hit  that  I'm  burried  'long  side  ov  her, 
at  Hepsiby  Church,  over  on  Harrycane.  She 
sleeps  thar  under  the  violits,  an'  I  wants  ter 
sleep  thar  too,  close  by  her  side,  so  we'll  both 
be  together  when  ole  Gabrill  comes  ter  toot 
his  trumpet.  You'll  mine  hit  now,  won't 
yer,  Jedge  ? " 

"Yes,  oh  yes.  Sam,  hurry  for  the 
doctor,"  turning  to  Sam. 

"And  you,  David,"  continued  the  old  man 
without  noticing  the  Judge's  interruption, 
"I'ze  monstus  glad  that  you's  yere  by  me. 
As  I  wuz  a  telliu'  the  Jedge  yisterday,  nex' 


228  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

ter  Abby  I  loves  you  better  'an  anny  one 
else  in  all  the  wurrill,  an'  sense  she  hain't 
yere  ter  hole  my  han'  I  wants  you  ter  lem- 
me  hole  ter  yourn.  Hit  sorter  steddys  me 
like,  as  I  steps  off  in  the  dark,  an'  hit's  gittin' 
monstus  dark,  David,  monstus  dark.  God 

bless  you  my  boy,  an'  Abigail Ha  !  hit's 

gittin'  lighter  now,  you  may  let  go  now,  I 
kin  see  now,"  and  before  the  startled  friends 
could  realize  it  the  eyes  closed,  the  lips 
quivered,  and  without  a  moan  the  old  man 
was  dead. 


-CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  ESTATE   IS  INVENTORIED  AND  BERGAVONIA 
IS  ASTONISHED. 

THE  grave,  thoughtful  words  of  warning 
that  her  father  had  written  her  had  filled 
Grace's  heart  with  a  nameless  dread,  and 
with  the  dread  came  the  yearning  wish  to  be 
with  him  again.  She  was  seriously  djfecuss- 
ing  arrangements  for  a  speedy  return  to 
America,  when  a  letter  came. 

She  started  back  with  a  nameless  dread,  as' 
she  saw  the  strange  superscription,  and  she 
hurried  aside  to  solve  the  dread.  Her  first 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  229 

glance  was  at  the  signature,  and  then  a  little 
cry  of  relief,  and  hope  as  well,  escaped  her  lips, 
as  the  thought  flashed  over  her  senses  that 
it  was  of  his  son  Judge  Winston  had  written. 
"  Oh,  it  is  of  him,  of  him  !  Perhaps  he 
has  relented  and  has  asked  his  father  to 
intercede.  Oh,  why  did  he  not  write  him- 
self ? "  she  murmured,  and  then  she  hushed 
her  gladness  and  commenced  to  read  : 

••  My  DEAR  CHILD:  "  "  Ah  that  is  sweet  ;  bless  his  kind 
good  heart  ! "  she  interjected,  "My  dear  child:  I  know  not 
how  to  begin  the  sorrowful  task  that  is  mine ;  what  words  of 
love  and  sympathy  to  say  to  soften  the  blow.  I  can  only 
pray  the  good  God,  who  loves  us  all  and  who  doeth  all 
things  well,  to  strengthen,  support  and  comfort  you  in  this 
sad  hour  of  your  affliction.  Your  father,  your  kind  good 
father,  whom  you  loved  so  dearly,  and  who  loved  you  so 
well,  is  dead..  He  died  this  Christmas  morning,  fully  con- 
scious of  his  approaching  end,  and  seemingly  without  pain. 
It  was  my  sad  pleasure  to  be  with  him  at  the  last.  We 
had  called  to  wish  him  a  happy  Christmas,  and  to  share  his 
ever  friendly  cheer.  I  had  seen  him  the  day  before  and 
was  adinpnished  of  the  approaching  dissolution,  but  hardly 
expected  it  so  soon.  His  death  was  one  that  the  happiest 
of  us  might  envy.  I  looked  upon  him,  as  he  lay  with  such 
a  happy  smile  on  his  face,  and  I  could  wish,  without  sacri- 
lege, to  be  in  his  place.  He  spoke  of  you  lovingly,  even  to 
the  end,  and  his  only  grief  at  going  was  that  it  might  grieve 
you.  He  prayed  that  you  might  be  comforted,  and  wished 
that  his  demise  might  make  no  change  in  your  plans.  He 
spoke  of  the  friends  you  were  with  and  expressed  his  glad- 
ness that  you  were  away,  and  that  in  the  sympathy  of  your 
friends  you  might  find  a  balm  for  your  sorrow. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  what  words  to  say  that  I  might  comfort 


230  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

you,  but  I  know  how  vain  is  human  consolation.  I  can 
only  pray  that  the  blessed  Saviour  who  died  for  us  all  may 
comfort  and  bless  you." 

"  Your  sincere  friend. 

"  ARTHUR  WINSTOX." 

To  the  young  heart,  already  bruised  and 
bleeding,  this  was  a  heavy  blow.  For  a 
while  she  was  stunned  by  its  pain,  and  could 
only  sit  in  mute  anguish,  too  miserable  even 
for  tears.  But  at  last  the  agony  softened, 
and  slipping  on  her  knees  she  found  voice 
for  prayer : 

"Alone,  alone,  all,  all  alone!  0  God, 
most  merciful  Father,  let  my  orphaned  deso- 
lation draw  me  the  closer  to  Thee  ! "  and 
strengthened  by  the  prayer  she  rose  and 
went  in  to  her  friends  to  tell  them  of  this 
new  and  greatest  sorrow. 

She  had  at  the  first  confided  to  Mrs.  Whit- 
ing all  the  sad  secret  of  her  marriage,  and 
the  confidence  had  all  the  more  strongly  knit 
the  ties  of  their   friendship,  and  now  that 
the  poor  girl  had  no  one  else  in  all  the  world 
to  look  to   for  counsel  and   sympathy,   the 
good  lady's  heart  yearned   over  her  sorrow 
i  as  :she  would  have  yearned  over  a  sister. 
r'n  With  the  cooing-'  words  of  sympathy  only 
"  tnV  j^einfle  lips"  of  a"   good  woman  know  so 

T  * 

well  now  |p,  ,spe$^  $fie  comforted  the  stricken 
the  next  American  mail 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  231 

brought  another  letter  from  Judge  Winston, 
she  had  gathered  back  sufficient  of  her  native 
courage  to  read  it  with  something  like  her 
usual  calmness. 

The  letter  was  a  business  one,  but  written 
with  a  tender  deference  that  made  it  less 
hard  for  her  to  understand.  It  gave  first 
the  details  of  the  funeral,  stating  that  in 
accord  with  her  father's  dying  request,  he 
had  been  buried  in  the  country  churchyard 
at  Hephzibah,  by  the  side  of  her  mother,  and 
then  it  gave  a  synopsis  of  the  will  ;  notifying 
her  of  his  appointment  as  executor  of  the 
will,  and  asking  to  be  informed  of  her  wishes 
in  the  matter ;  begging,  in  conclusion,  her 
friendly  confidence,  and  giving  assurance  of 
his  fatherly  interest  in  her  welfare,  and 
sincere  wish  to  serve  her,  but  making  no 
reference  to  the  past,  or  to  their  -anomalous 
relations  by  law,  not  once  alluding  to  the 
name  of  his  son. 

She  noticed  the  omission,  seemingly  stud- 
ied, and  somehow  it  became  an  additional 
burden  laid  upon  her  fair  young  life^  i  -u»L  vm 

It  seemed  a  hopeless  cutting  off  &f 

the  desperate  but  sweet  possibility  of 'a  . 

r  *  J  <sa  iaa  ono 

understanding  between  them  ;  of  an  exj^a- 
nation  of  the  dark  mistake  ;  of  his  coming 
again,  and  a  happy  reconciliation^  which  in 


232  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

spite  of  her  pride  and  her  womanly  resolves, 
would  still  cling  to  her  fancy  and  come  in 
her  dreams. 

Surely,  if  he  was  ever  to  come,  he  would 
come  now,  when  in  her  desolate  sorrow  she 
stood  so  much  alone,  and  in  so  much  neod  of 
his  countenance  ;  now,  when  a  sympathetic 
word  from  him  would  be  so  sweet ;  but  no, 
not  a  word,  even  of  formal  condolence,  not 
a  line,  not  so  much  as  a  hint  of  his  remem- 
brance, and  she  so  far  awav  so  lonely  and 
so  sad. 

But  she  was  a  brave,  true  lady,  ana  sne 
smothered  back  the  sigh  that  came,  and  put- 
ting away  the  murdered  hope,  she  turned  to 
her  desk  to  answer  the  Judge's  letter. 

And  this  is  what  she  wrote  : 

'  MY  KIND  FRIEND:  Your  letters  have  both  come.  The 
first  with  its  sad,  sad  tidings  came  a  week  ago,  the  last  has 
just  been  read. 

"  I  should  have  answered  at  first,  but  my  heart  was  too 
sorrowful  to  write.  Even  now,  I  find  it  hard  to  fashion 
my  distracted  thoughts  into  intelligent  expression.  My 
life  seemed  so  sad  before,  so  lonely,  so  unloved,  with  only 
my  dear  father  to  bless  me,  and  now  he  is  gone  and  1  si;md 
alone,  all,  all  alone  in  the  world.  Ah,  those  who  have; 
never  felt  the  icy  desolation  can  never  know  its  pain  ! 
None  but  those  who  have  suffered  can  realize  the  truth 
that: 

" '  The  heart's  the  alembic  of  sorrow, 
And  tears  are  the  spirits  distilled; 
Mine  own  has  been  tried  to  its  utmost, 
And  all  of  its  vials  are  filled.' 


DAVID  AND' ABIGAIL.  233 

"  But  I  must  not  stop  to  think,  or  I  shall  despair,  and  to 
despair  is  to  doubt  the  goodness  of  God.  Neither  must 
you  think  that  I  am  complaining  against  the  injustice  of 
man;  I  am  only  prostrate  in  the  dreariness  of  my  heart 
desolation,  and  hardly  know  what  I  am  saying.  You,  in 
your  goodness,  must  pardon  the  weakness. 

"Touching  your  last  letter:  I  need  not  assure  you  how 
readily  I  acquiesce  in  the  wishes  of  my  father.  I  know 
that  whatever  he  thought  best  to  be  done,  will  be  the  best 
for  me.  I  could  wish  no  better  friend  than  you  into  whose 
hands  to  leave  my  affairs.  If  not  asking  too  much  of  your 
goodness,  I  shall  beg  you  to  take  charge  and  absolute  con- 
trol of  everything ;  doing,  in  all  things,  all  that  you  may 
deem  proper  to  be  done. 

"  In  answer  to  your  friendly  inquiries  as  to  my  future,  I 
must  say:  that  since  this  sorrow  has  come  I  have  been  too 
sad  to  think,  and  I  am  almost  without  a  hope  or  aim  in 
life.  My  dear  father  in  his  last  letter  had,  in  his  own  kind 
way,  tried  to  prepare  my  mind  for  the  terrible  blow  that 
was  so  soon  to  fall,  and,  alarmed  by  the  warning,  I  was 
hastening  preparations  to  return  to  him,  when  your  letter 
came,  only  two  days  after  his,  and  told  me  that  it  \vas, 
alas !  too  late.  Now  that  he  is  gone  there  is  nothing  to 
draw  me  back,  and  I  may  not  care  ever  to  return  again. 
Life  holds  but  little  of  promise  to  me,  and  that  little  can 
best  be  attained  by  a  quiet  home  abroad.  "When  I  feel 
stronger,  I  may  be  better  able  to  determine  what  is  best, 
or  at  least  what  I  shall  do.  When  I  so  determine  I  shall 
write  you.  In  the  meantime,  I  place  my  interest  at  home 
in  your  keeping. 

"  Blessing  you  for  your  tender  words  of  sympathy  and 
thanking  you  for  all  your  kindness  I  remain  : 

"  Most  Gratefully  Yours, 

"  GKACE  A.  WINSTON. 
"  (MAI/TBY  TERRACE,  Jan.  20th.) 

"  To  JUDGE  ARTHUR  WINSTOX." 

It  was  a  fortnight  later,  and  the  family 


234  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

had  gathered  at  home  to  celebrate  the  six- 
tieth birthday  of  Judge  Winston.  The  din- 
ner had  been  eaten,  the  toasts  drank  and 
the  little  speeches  made,  when,  gathering  in 
the  parlor,  a  little  cantata  of  song  had  fol- 
lowed, when  tjie  Judge,  himself  a  connois- 
seur in  music,  spoke  up  : 

"Augusta,  did  you  hear  Abigail  sing  ?  " 

"Oh,  no." 

"  Then  you  missed  a  rare  pleasure.  She 
has  the  sweetest  voice  I  ever  heard.  Jenny 
Lind  herself  might  envy  her.  It  is  ravish- 
ingly  sweet." 

"  Yes  ;  I  can  well  imagine  how  sweetly 
she  might  sing.  Her  voice  when  she  talks 
has  music  in  it.  But  when  did  you  hear 
her,  papa  ? " 

"  The  day  she  was  mar — I  mean  the  day 
I  first  met  her.  She  sang  for  the  rector, 
and  then  she  sang  '  Auld  Robin  Gray '  for 
us  all,  and,  would  you  believe  it,  she  set  us 
all  three  to  blubbering.  I  could  not  help  the 
tears  to  have  saved  my  life.  And  then  to  set 
us  all  up  again,  she  sang  '  The  Rat-catcher's 
Daughter.'  It  was  inimitable,  and  I  had  to 
laugh  as  heartily  as  I  had.  been  crying  but 
a  moment  before.  Well,  Jake,  have  you 
concluded  to  bring  the  mail  at  last  ?  "  as  the 
tardy  Jake  came  in  with  his  basket  of  mail. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  235 

"Ah,  here  is  a  letter  from  Abigail,  now," 
he  exclaimed,  as  he  took  up  an  envelope 
with  a  foreign  post-mark,  and  breaking  the 
seal  he  soberly  read  it. 

"  Is  there  anything  secret  ?  I  hope  she 
is  well  ? "  asked  Augusta,  with  something 
more  than  a  womanly  curiosity. 

"No,  there  is  nothing  secret  a.bout  it.  It 
is  a  business  letter.  I  will  read  it  to  you," 
and  with  a  heroic  effort  at  steadying  his 
voice,  he  read  the  letter  aloud. 

"  Oh,  poor,  poor  Grace  !  how  my  heart 
yearns  to  her  !  "  cried  the  sympathetic  lady, 
brushing  back  the  tears.  "  She  is  such  a 
sweet  girl !  Oh,  Walter  !  suppose  it  was  me 
away  there,  so  far  away  by  myself  and  you 
cared  nothing  about  me  ?  I  am  sure  I 
should  die,  if  for  nothing  else  than  to  come 
back  and  haunt  you." 

The  young  husband  could  not  conceive 
such  an  impossible  thing  and  the  Judge  had 
to  answer. 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  sad." 

"And  she  doesn't  say  a  word  about  me. 
I  wonder  if  she  has  forgotten  me  or  is  she 
still  afraid  ? "  continued  Augusta. 

"Afraid  of  what?"  asked  the  Judge, 
sharply. 

"  Oh,  afraid  of  offending  brother  Dave." 


236  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Why  should  she  be  afraid  of  that?" 
quickly  asked  her  brother. 

"Because  when  I  told  her  what  you 
wrote— 

"Augusta  !  you  did  not  tell  her  that  ?  " 
he  interrupted  fiercely. 

"  Yes.  That  is,  when  she  asked  me  so 
piteously  not  to  believe  all  the  cruel  things 
that  Mrs.  Grundy  might  say  about  her,  I 
just  couldn't  stand  it,  and  I  told  her  that  I 
should  believe  nothing  but  that  she  was  the 
dearest,  and  purest,  and  sweetest  sister  in 
the  world,  and  I  intended  to  love  her  always, 
I  didn't  care  what  you  might  say.  And 
Oh  !  brother,  you  ought  to  have  seen  the 
hurt  look  in  her  eyes,  as  I  said  it ;  and  then 
she  asked  me  if  I  really  meant  it,  and  if  you 
wished  me  to  give  her  up  too  ?  and  I  told 
her  yes  ;  but  that  I  was  not  going  to  do  it, 
and  that  if  I  had  to  choose  between  you  two 
that  I  would  take  her,  and  let  you  go  to  the 
dogs,  and  I  should  have  done  it  too,  only 
she  said,  '  No,  blood  is  thicker  than  water, 
and  she  could  not  stand  between  brother 
and  sister.'  And  then  before  I  could  protest 
or  explain,  for  I  didn't  mean  to  tell,  she 
kissed  me  good-bye  and  ran  up  to  her  own 
room,  and  locked  herself  in,  leaving  me 
standing  alone  in  the  parlor.  I  should  have 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  237 

followed  her,  only  I  knew  from  her  looks 
that  it  would  do  no  good.  Oh,  brother 
Dave,  I  think  that  you  have  acted  like  a 
hound  towards  her,  I  don't'  care  if  Walter 
does  hear  me  say  it." 

"Yes,  lay  on!  I  deserve  it  all,  and  I 
despise  myself  worse  than  you  or  she  or  an}* 
one  else  can  despise  me  for  blighting  her 
life  as  I  have,  only,  Gussie,  you  ought  not 
to  have  told  her  that,  for  I  did  not  mean  it. " 

"But,  Dave,  cannot  the  matter  be 
righted  ?  What  is  there  wrong  between 
you  ?  If  she  is  a  proper  woman,  why  not 
seek  a  reconciliation  ?  "  asked  Walter. 

"It  is  a  matter  that  need  not  concern 
you,  sir  ! "  angrily  retorted  the  young  man. 

"Very  well !  I  shall  have  no  more  to  say 
about  it.  Come,  Gussie,  we  will  go,"  and, 
touchily  resenting  his  brother-in-law's 
rebuff,  he  arose  and  tucking  his  wife  under 
his  arm  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"Yes,  I  am  quite  ready,  only,  brother 
Dave,  I  am  sorry  that  I  hurt  you." 

"  No,  no  ;  you  did  not  hurt  me,  for  you 
are  quite  right.  And,  Wat,  I  must  apologize 
for  my  acerbity  of  temper.  You  do  not 
know  how  utterly  impossible  your  sugges- 
tion of  a  reconciliation  is,  and  I  would  have 
to  humiliate  myself  too  much  to  explain. 


238  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

The  matter  is  all  closed  now  and  it  cannot 
be  reopened.  I  am  sorry  for  the  lady,  and 
do  most  tenderly  feel  for  her  in  this  last  sad 
affliction.  So  far  as  her  orphaned  desolation 
is  concerned,  one  would  have  to  be  heartless 
indeed  not  to  sympathize  with  her.  But  as 
to  the  future  she  is  not  so  utterly  forlorn. 
When  she  recovers  from  the  grief  for  her 
father's  death,  and  tires  of  her  loneliness, 
she  has  only  to  let  the  world  know  that 
she  is  the  untrammeled  mistress  of  over  a 
million,  to  have  friends,  and  sympathetic 
admirers  by  the  score,  and  suitors  by  the 
battalion,"  he  added  almost  despitefully. 

"Of  course!  Such  a  woman,  with  such 
a  fortune,  cannot  fail  to  attract  attention 
and  admiration,  and  when  this  sore  heals, 
it  will  be  equally  natural  for  her  to  crave 
that  homage  which  is  so  naturally  her 
due,"  said  the  Judge. 

"  Of  course  it  is  natural.  The  female 
Barkis  is  always  willing,"  and  in  an  un- 
accountably ill-humor  the  young  man 
turned  from  the  room. 

"I  tell  you,  Walter,  what  is  the  matter 
with  brother  Dave!  he  is  jealous  already/' 
whispered  Augusta,  as  she  snugly  cuddled 
herself  under  her  husband's  paletot,  as  they 
walked  out  into  the  cold. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  239 

"  But,  Gussie  !  what  is  the  trouble 
between  the  manyhow  ?  Is  the  girl  really 
bad,  that  he  should  leave  her  ?  " 

"No  truer,  purer,  better,  or  sweeter  girl 
than  Grace  Hardie  ever  lived,  and  it  is  all 
brother's  fault.  You  see,  the  marriage  was 
.arranged  for  convenience.  That  is  some- 
how, I  don't  know  how,  it  was  something 
about  money !  I  never  could  tell  heads 
from  tails  in  it.  They  knew  nothing  about 
each  other,  and  of  course  it  was  a  mer- 
cenary thing  to  do,  and  they  are  both 
ashamed  of  it  !  and  then,  when  that  wretch 
Lawson  took  it  up  and  taunted  brother 
Dave  with  it  so  cruelly,  it  drove  him  mad  ; 
and  in  a  foolish  fit  of  desperation  he 
determined  to  break  it  off  without  ever 
seeing  her  again,  and  he  must  have  written 
something  very  shocking  to  her  ;  and  she, 
though  a  very  sweet  girl,  oh  !  you  don't 
know  how  really  sweet  she  is,  but  she  is  as 
proud  as  a  queen,  and  as  high-strung  as 
brother  Dave  himself,  and  so  she  gave  it  to 
him  back  again  as  good  as  he  sent,  and  a 
little  better,  I'm  thinking,  for  she  is  quite 
capable  of  it,  and  before  anybody  could 
interfere,  or  brother  Dave  could  get  home  to 
see  her,  she  went  away.  I  do  not  blame 
her  so  much,  but  I  am  sorry  for  them  both. 


240  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

Had  she  only  waited  until  he  got  back,  I  am 
certain  that  they  would  have  made  it  up, 
for  I  know  that  she  loves  him,  and  you  can 
see  for  yourself  that  brother  Dave  is  just 
getting  desperate  about  her.  But  going 
away  as  she  did,  and  snapping  him  up  so 
quickly,  and  taking  him  at  his  word,  and 
writing  him  to  take  steps  for  a  divorce, 
she  quite  burned  the  bridge  behind  her,  and 
now  there  is  nothing  left  for  them  to  do, 
but  to  get  a  divorce  and  try  and  find  some 
one  else  to  marry,  which  I  suppose  will  be 
the  upshot  of  it  all.  It's  a  great  scandal,  and 
I  have  quite  cried  my  eyes  out  about  it. 
Oh  !  Walter  !  suppose  it  was  you  and  I  so 
far  apart,  with  all  the  blue  waves  rolling 
between  us,  this  cold,  cold  night  ?  It  would 
kill  me,"  and  with  a  little  shiver  at  the  dire 
possibility  she  cuddled  the  closer  to  his  side, 
and  in  the  diversion  of  his  little  cooing  arts 
of  assurance,  that  it  was  not  "you  and  I  " 
the  subject  was  entirely  forgotten. 

In  due  course  of  time  Judge  Winston 
submitted  the  will  of  Israel  Hardie  for 
probate,  and  without  contest  was  ordained 
executor  of  the  vast  estate.  His  first  act 
was  to  submit  to  the  court  a  statement  of 
his  own  indebtedness  to  the  estate,  with  a 
certified  check  to  cover  the  full  amount. 


DAVlt)  AND  ABIGAIL.  241 

And  then,  with  that  mountain  of  misery, 
which  had  so  long  weighted  him  down 
lifted  from  his  life,  he  felt  a  rejuvenation 
of  years  that  almost  made  him  young 
again. 

He  found  the  old  man's  affairs  in  the  best 
of  order  !  A  simple  schedule  which  would 
have  served  as  a  model  of  simplicity  for  a 
business  university,  made  in  his  own  hand, 
showed  at  a  glance  the  exact  status  of  the 
estate.  The  most  minute  item  of  every 
transaction  had  been  made  with  only  one 
exception  :  no  mention,  nor  trace  of  mention, 
was  found  of  the  money  advanced  on  account 
of  the  Garden  estate.  Only  one  entry  made 
on  the  day  the  money  had  been  paid  could 
suggest  to  the  Judge  the  slightest  clew  to 
the  transaction.  That  entry  was  this  : 

"  $26,480,—  pade  as  weddin'  gift7  ter 
Abigail." 

Nor  was  any  record  found  of  the  other  sums 
due  by  Judge  Winston.  Under  the  head  of, 
"Amount  spent  for  Abby's  weddin' "  was 
found  the  following : 

"  $20— pade  Mr.  Snook  ferfixin'  platform 
in  Parler  ter  marry  on. 

"$60 — ditto,  Mr.  Galseran  fer  makin' wed- 
din' bell  ov  roses. 

"$100 — pade  fer  presents  fer  the  Niggers. 
16 


242  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"$40 — pade  fer  Caik  an'  orringis  an'  sich 
like. 

"  $220— totell,  God  bless  her,  I  wish  hit  waz 
moar." 

The  amount  expended  upon  the  campaign 
was  itemized  as  follows  : 

"$600 — pade  fer  shuze  fer  the  pegbottom 
wimmin  an  childern  in  Sincleer. 

"$200— pade  fer  dito  ditto  in  Walker 
county. 

"  $1500 — pade  in  cash  ter  Committy. 

"$50— pade  in  cash  fer  Bar-By-ku  at 
Harry-kin. 

"  $10 — pade  fer  torches  an'  so-forth  at  the 
huraw  after  the  lecshun. 

"$2,360— toatil— all  well  spent" 

"  Do  you  see  this,  David  ? "  asked  the  Judge, 
as  together  they  were  going  through  the 
matter.  "If  it  was  not  that  I  know  it 
would  hurt  her  I  should  insist  that  this 
amount  be  returned  to  the  estate  ;  what  say 
you  ? " 

"No  !  I  should  wish  it  to  stand  as  it  is,  a 
perpetual  monument  of  that  old  man's  good- 
ness to  me.  It  may  inspire  me  to  better 
things  myself.  If  I  were  to  try  to  liquidate 
the  debt  it  would  be  in  giving  alms  to  the  poor 
in  his  name.  I  cannot  insult  his  memory  by 
offering  to  return  it  to  her.  But,  father,  the 


DAVID  AXD  ABIGAIL.  243 

tenclerest  thing  of  all  is  this  statement  of  the 
wedding  expenses.  What  could  be  more  ex- 
pressive of  a  father's  love  for  his  darling 
than  this  ?  Had  it  been  for  a  public  display 
one  might  have  expected  something  like  this  ; 
but  only  for  her,  and  perhaps  me,  all  this 
costly  preparation  was  made.  And  then 
this  item  :  one  hundred  dollars  paid  for 
presents  for  the  negroes  ;  he  even  wanted 
the  negroes  to  be  glad.  And  I — only  think  ! 
father,  what  a  sacrilege — I  had  no  heart 
in  it  all  !  It  is  infamous  !  I  wonder  that  I 
was  not  stricken  dumb  with  the  lie  on  my 
lips.  Oh  !  if  I  had  only  known  ;  if  we  had 
only  met  before  and  under  different  circum- 
stances !  how  different  it  all  might  have 
been.  And  he,  if  he  had  not  been  so  frank 
with  his  friendliness,  so  profuse  with  his 
favors  I — I  might  have  been  led  to  see.  I 
did  not  understand  him,  as  I  sadly  misun- 
derstood her.  Oh !  I  do  hope  that  he 
knows  now  how  it  all  was  and  why  it  was 
that  I  so  derided  him  and  so  reviled  her." 

"We  can  trust,  my  son,  that  he  is  now 
happily  above  all  such  susceptivities,  and  I 
am  sure  that  he  did  undertand  you,  better 
than  you  understood  yourself.  It  was 
an  unfortunate  thing  that  we  did  not 
understand  him.  Ah  !  how  tender  is  this 


244  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

comment  :  '  God  bless  her,  I  wish  it  was 
more  ! '  There  speaks  the  fullness  of  the 
father's  heart  for  his  child. " 

The  completed  inventory  of  all  the  prop- 
erty returned  to  the  court  footed  up  to  over 
fourteen  hundred  thousand  dollars,  a  sum 
that  startled  the  community  with  its  magni- 
tude ;  for  while  Israel  Hardie  had  been  ac- 
counted a  rich  man,  there  were  few,  even 
among  his  most  intimate  friends  who  had 
any  conception  of  the  surprising  munifi- 
cence of  his  fortune. 

"Ah  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Grundy,  "  no  wonder 
the  high-bred  Mr.  Winston  could  afford  to 
marry  the  girl,  all  smirched  as  she  was,  for 
such  a  princely  fortune." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A   LITTLE  BIRD  FLEW   ACROSS   THE  OCEAN  AND 
WHISPERED    SOMETHING  TO  DAVID. 

TIME,  which  touches  with  healing  fingers 
all  nature's  wounds,  is  no  less  kind  to  the 
hurts  which  quiver  in  the  human  heart,  and 
as  the  days  went  by,  the  burden,  which 
seemed  at  first  greater  than  she  could  bear, 
was  lifted  from  her  life  and  something  of  its 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  245 

old-time  gladness  once  again  sparkled  in 
the  eye  and  trilled  in  the  song  of  the  groom- 
less  bride,  and  when  the  summer  came, 
bringing  a  respite  to  Mr.  Whiting  from 
the  drudgery  of  the  Cotton  Exchange,  and 
all  things  were  ready  for  the  long-promised 
sight-seeing  on  the  Continent,  she  was  as 
radiant  in  spirit  as  she  was  peerless  in 
beauty  and  vigorous  in  health  and  in 
strength.  And  so,  one  pleasant  morning  in 
the  rosy  June,  they  closed  the  establishment 
at  Maltby  Terrace  and  turning  over  the  keys 
of  the  cottage  to  a  keeper  they  began  their 
journey.  But  as  their  journey  lay  through 
ways  which  are  traversed  to-day,  I  need  not 
follow  them  with  a  detail  of  its  scenes. 
The  sights  they  saw  then  are  the  sights  to 
be  seen  to-day,  only  the  journey  as  it  is  now 
made  by  steam,  in  swallow-flights  from 
city  to  city,  had  then  to  be  made,  in  greater 
part,  in  slow-plodding,  and  provokingly 
lumbersome  diligences,  loitering  by  way- 
sides and  picking  up  stray  bits  of  enjoyment, 
not  now  dreamed  of  by  the  more  expeditious 
voyager. 

All  through  the  summer  days  they  lin- 
gered amid  the  pleasant  valleys  that  lay  in 
the  shadow  of  the  Alps,  and  when  the 
frosty  breath  of  autumn  began  to  blow 


246  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

crisp  and  chill,  they  turned  southward,  to- 
wards the  sunny  plains  of  Italy.  Rome, 
Naples,  Genoa,  Leghorn  and  Florence  were 
visited,  and  duly  ransacked  for  curiosities. 
From  each  place  little  predatory  excursions 
were  made  into  the  surrounding  campag- 
nas ;  looking  up,  and  touching,  with  not 
irreverent  fingers,  the  local  bric-d-brac  of 
the  shadowy  ages,  long-ago  gone. 

It  was  in  one  of  these  little  sallies  from 
Florence,  one  soft  sunny  morning,  that 
they  came  across  a  spot  so  pretty  in  its 
framework  of  hill  and  woods,  with  its  out- 
look across  the  valley  below,  so  restful  in 
its  pastoral  beauty,  that  they  all  had  to  in- 
stinctively halt  to  gaze  and  admire. 

"  How  like  the  view  from  the  plantation 
house  at  home,"  said  Grace,  after  a  few 
moments,  silent  wonder  at  the  surprising 
similitude.  "I  have  seen  nothing  before 
this  that  conveyed  even  a  suggestion  of 
home." 

"This  is  very  pretty,  and  the  skies  are 
soft  like  the  skies  of  our  own  sunny  south," 
answered  Mrs.  Whiting. 

UI  think  I  should  like  to  live  here.  I 
wonder  if  the  cottage,  with  its  little  plat  of 
garden,  could  be  bought  ? "  Grace  queried, 
half  to  herself. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL  247 

"  It  could  be  leased,  of  course  ;  only  if  the 
rascally  proprietor  was  to  know  that  you 
wanted  it  he  would  ask  a  double  price,"  an- 
swered Mr.  Whiting. 

"  Then  I  do  want  it.  It  may  shock  you 
to  know  of  my  sudden  whim,  but  I  feel  as  if 
this  must  bo  my  home.  Mr.  Whiting,  will 
you  please  help  me  to  secure  it  ? " 

"  Certainly  ;  only  you  must  not  be  too 
precipitate.  Let  us  see  if  we  can  get  a  look 
through  the  house.  Antinelli,  ask  the  good 
lady  if  we  can  stop  in  for  awhile.  Tell  her 
that  we  are  travelers  looking  up  matters  for 
a  book,  with  pictures  in  it,  and  we  will  put 
her  and  her  child  in  the  picture." 

Antinelli,  their  guide,  hurried  in  to  return 
in  a  moment  to  say  that  "The  signora  bids 
the  ladies  welcome." 

The  inspection  was  satisfactory  :  every- 
thing was  charming,  and  the  sudden  whim 
was  resolved  into  a  settled  purpose  to  buy 
the  cottage,  and  to  make  it  her  home. 
Home  !  Ah,  how  the  weary  heart  longed 
for  the  sacred  shadow  of  home  ! 

Luckily  the  place  could  be  had,  the  cot- 
tage having  been  taken  the  year  before  by  a 
rich  Florentine  merchant,  and  fitted  up  in 
the  most  elegant  style  for  a  home  for  his 
bride,  but  with  the  waning  of  the  honey- 


248  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

moon,  the  bride  tired  of  its  rural  solitude, 
and  began  to  sigh  for  the  more  congenial 
gayeties  of  the  city,  with  such  a  pathetic 
charm  in  her  eyes  that  the  young  husband, 
for  the  sake  of  the  pathetic  eyes,  had  to 
abandon  his  pretty  nest  to  the  care  of  a 
keeper,  and  carry  his  birdie  back  to  a  gilded 
cage  in  the  city.  He  would  doubtless  be 
willing  to  sell  it  now,  on  the  most  favorable 
terms. 

The  United  States  consul  was  consulted, 
and  after  looking  into  the  matter,  as  well  as 
investigating  the  character  of  the  vicinage, 
and  finding  nothing  objectionable  in  either, 
he  concluded  the  purchase  for  her.  And 
this  is  how  it  came  about  that  on  the  twen- 
tieth of  October,  the  anniversary  of  her 
wedding  day,  the  virgin  bride  of  a  year  took 
possession  of  her  home,  so  far  away  among 
strangers,  in  that  strange  land  beyond  the 
sea. 

The  faithful  Nanny  was  with  her.  For 
no  consideration  of  freedom,  so  artfully 
whispered  in  her  ear,  could  induce  her  to 
leave  her  darling  young  mistress.  The 
gardener  and  his  wife,  whom  she  found  in 
charge  of  the  place,  were  retained  ;  a  cook 
and  coachman  were  added,  and  the  com- 
plement of  her  household  was  perfected. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  249 

Miss  Whiting  would  remain  with  her  all 
winter  ;  Mr.  Whiting  had  to  hurry  back  to 
Liverpool  to  commence  again  the  drudgery 
of  the  office  and  the  cotton-yard  ;  his  wife 
went  with  him,  but  both  would  rejoin  her 
in  the  early  summer  to  resume  the  delight- 
ful rambles,  next  time  to  be  projected  into 
the  Levant,  and  a  voyage  up  the  Nile. 

Time,  which  had  thus  soothed,  •  the 
bruised  and  broken  spirit  and  filled  the 
life  of  the  despised  wife  with  a  rational  and 
restful  content,  had  not  been  nearly  so 
gracious  to  the  husband.  Each  load  that 
had  been  lifted  from  her  life  seemed  by  the 
sport  of  the  Parcse  to  have  been  transferred 
to  his. 

It  seemed  a  grim  irony  of  Lachesis,  to 
allot  to  these  two,  whom  she  had  so  capri- 
ciously coupled  together,  a  certain  portion  of 
misery,  and  the  burden  which  one  cast  off, 
had  to  be  taken  up  and  borne  by  the  other. 
Had  they  been  together,  a  mutual  strength 
might  have  sufficed  for  a  mutual  load,  but 
being  so  far  apart  they  could  not  share  the 
burden,  and  one  at  a  time  they  had  to 
stagger  under  it  alone. 

The  lapse  of  days,  that  softened  the 
memory  of  her  sorrow,  only  gave  poignancy 
to  the  remorse  of  his,  and  if  there  ever  was 


250  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

a  thoroughly  miserable  man  in  the  world 
David  Winston  was  one.  But  he  bore  his 
burden  with  a  manly  dignity  ;  no  one,  not 
even  his  father,  ever  heard  a  word  or  sigh 
of  complaint.  Happily  for  the  ultimate 
safety  of  his  mind  he  found  in  the  distract- 
ing duties  of  his  profession  a  respite,  and  in 
doctoring  the  business  troubles  of  his  clients 
he  found  a  salve  for  his  own. 

When  the  congress  opened,  in  December, 
he  found  in  its  excitement  a  new  diversion. 
With  all  the  enthusiasm  of  his  young  South- 
ern nature  he  entered  in  the  exciting  and 
ever  memorable  contest  for  the  Speakership, 
and  in  its  partisan  bitterness  he  forgot  for  a 
time  the  nameless  yearning  that  had  so  con- 
stantly gnawed  at  his  heart. 

With  a  modest  diffidence  he  took  his 
place,  but  without  arrogant  assertion  he 
soon  made  his  way  to  the  front,  where  he 
stood  as  one  of  the  recognized  leaders  of  his 
party. 

The  session  was  a  long  and  bitter  one,  and 
was  only  adjourned  late  in  the  summer,  that 
the  members  might  return  home  to  enter  a 
hurried  canvass  for  re-election. 

It  is  a  hard  thing  in  our  American  system, 
that  a  young  congressman-  can  only  have  a 
half  chance  to  demonstrate  his  fitness  for  his 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  251 

place.  His  first  term  is  not  yet  half  out, 
and  he  is  hardly  inducted  into  the  routine  of 
business,  before  he  is  called  upon  by  an  im- 
patient constituency  to  show  proof  of '  his 
capacity  by  exhibiting  his  record,  a  record 
the  poor  devil  has  had  no  possible  chance  to 
make. 

Without  opposition  Winston  was  re- 
nominated  by  his  party  for  re-election.  His 
embryo  record  had  been  approved  by  his 
party  leaders,  and  he  was  again  put  before 
the  sovereigns  for  their  august  endorse- 
ment. But  the  sovereigns  themselves  are 
not  always  so  easily  satisfied  as  the  party 
leaders,  and  it  was  uneasily  felt  that  the 
hardest  work  would  have  to  be  done  to  pla- 
cate the  fickle  herd. 

The  whigs  had  displayed  a  more  judicious 
choice  in  the  selection  of  their  candidate. 
Lawson  was  retired,  and  Judge  Vassar,  an 
adroit  politician  and  popular  speaker,  had 
been  put  in  the  arena,  and  as  the  question  of 
shoe  soles  was  not  expected  to  figure  in  the 
canvass,  the  race  would  have  to  be  run  up 
on  more  equal  chances,  and  a  higher  plane. 

It  was  a  more  dignified  canvass  than  be- 
fore, but  not  nearly  so  enthusiastic.  It  was 
naturally  a  whig  district,  but  with  the  pres- 
tige of  his  former  triumph,  Winston  entered 


252  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

the  field  with  a  comfortable  assurance  of 
success.  But  when  the  election  came  off, 
and  the  returns  began  to  come  in,  showing 
losses  here,  and  losses  there,  and  surprising 
losses  everywhere,  his  assurance  began  to 
ooze  all  away,  and  with  a  sickly  feeling  of 
disgust  he  began  to  prepare  his  mind  for 
defeat.  The  heavy  weight  of  the  pegbot- 
toms  seemed  to  have  been  cast  upon  the 
opposite  scale,  and  the  weight  of  the  pegbot- 
toms  was  the  pea  that  regulated  the  political 
beam.  He  missed  the  adjusting  hand  of 
old  Israel  Hardie  to  regulate  the  pea,  and  he 
felt,  not  without  a  vague  sense  of  retribu- 
tive justice,  that  he  had  been  weighed  and 
found  wanting.  Only  one  more  county  was 
to  be  heard  from,  that  was  Walker,  a  whig 
county,  and  there  was  but  slight  chance  that 
he  could  carry  that,  and,  unless  he  did  carry 
that,  he  was  beaten.  If  Hurricane  came  in 
gallantly  for  him  as  it  had  done  before, 
there  was  a  possibility  of  his  election,  albeit 
by  the  skin  of  his  teeth.  But  would  Hurri- 
cane come  in  ?  Ah,  would  it ! 

At  last,  after  a  tantalizing  delay,  the  news 
from  Walker  came  in.  Esquire  Wheeler  him- 
self brought  the  returns  and  they  gave 
Winston  the  victory.  Old  Hurricane  came 
hi  as  one  man  for  Israel  Hardie's  daughter's 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  253 

husband,  and  put  him  in  by  precisely  ten 
votes. 

"Yes,  sir,  Mr.  Winston,  I  tell  you  what's 
a  fact,  it  was  a  mighty  tight  squeeze,  but  we 
made  it.  I  golly  !  I  thought  once  that  we 
was  gone  up  and  I  tried  to  hedge  on  my 
bets  but  I  couldn't  do  it.  No,  sir-ee,  I  was 
completely  swampt,  when  old  Milo  Sneed 
got  a  letter  from  your  wife — 

"  From  my  wife  ?"  with  a  start. 

"  Yes,  from  little  Abby,  begging  him  and 
all  the  kin  to  do  their  best  for  you,  and 
sending  two  hundred  dollars  for  barbe- 
cues and  other  things,  you  understand, 
and  that  fixed  it.  You  see  they  had  some- 
how or  other  heard  some  queer  tales 
about  the  way  you  two  were  living,  and  they 
were  uncertain  which  way  to  go,  until  the 
letter  came,  and  that  decided  them,  and  they 
just  turned  and  followed  Old  Milo  like 
a  passel  ov  sheep  following  a  bell-weather. 
You  see  he  gave  a  barbecue  and  knocked  the 
head  out  of  a  barrel  of  whisky,  and  told 
everybody  that  it  was  little  Abby's  treat,  and 
they  just  come  in  with  a  whoop,  over  two 
hundred  solid,  and  now  you  are  hunky  and 
so  am  I ;  I  won  my  bets,  two  hundred  dol- 
lars, besides  a  pair  of  boots  for  Tom,  pegbot- 
tom  at  that.  Whoop-pee,  come,  old,  boy 


254  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

shake,  and  lets  go  over  to  Charley  George's 
and  take  a  horn." 

"Thanks,  I  am  very  grateful  for  your 
good  news  and  grateful  for  your  support, 
but  you  must  excuse  me  from  the  horn.  I 
have  a  headache  now.  You  will  find  the 
boys,  though,  and  tell  them  that  it  is  my 
treat." 

"  What,  are  you  not  dead  certain  that  you 
are  out  of  the  woods  yet  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  There  is  no  longer  doubt  of  my 
election,  thanks  to  your  good  report,"  and 
lowering  his  breath  to  a  secret  heart-whisper, 
he  added,  "and  thanks  to  the  sweet  lady. 
It  must  be  to  her  that  I  again  owe  my  elec- 
tion. Ah,  well  !  I  had  rather  owe  it  to  her 
than  to  any  one  else  in  all  the  world.  May 
heaven  bless  her  sweet  heart." 

The  surprising  turn  of  affairs  electrified 
democratic  headquarters,  and  another  "  hoo- 
raw"  was  inaugurated,  and  Editor  Yates 
got  out  his  roosters  from  their  ignominious 
hiding-place,  and  had  them  to  crow  again, 
as  tantalizingly  as  before,  even  though  they 
had  but  a  meager  majority  of  ten  votes  to 
crow  over. 

The  worthy  editor  missed  the  thousand- 
dollar  windfall,  though,  and  Miss  Carrie  got 
no  Christmas  present  this  time,  but  as  she 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  255 

was  soon  to  be  married,  anyway,  it  did  not 
so  much  matter. 

That  night  after  he  had  made  his  speech 
at  the  "hooraw,"  David  Winston  went  to 
his  room,  and  after  sitting  awhile  in  a  sober, 
far-away  thought,  he  turned  up  the  light  and 
wrote  : 


"  M[LO  SNEED,  ESQB. 

"  MY  DEAB  SIR: 

"I  write  to  thank  you,  and,  through  you,  to  thank  my 
friends  for  your  kindly  help  in  my  election,  and  to  assure 
you  that  any  claim  you,  or  any  of  them,  may  ever  make 
upon  my  gratitude  will  be  gladly  recognized. 

"  Our  good  friend,  Esquire  Wheeler,  has  told  me  of  your 
valuable  services.  He  also,  stated  that  you  had,  pending 
the  contest,  received  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Winston.  Now,  sir, 
I  may  not  try  to  explain  to  you  why  I  should  wish  to  see 
the  letter,  but  as  I  do  most  earnestly  wish  to  see  it,  I  trust 
that  if,  without  any  violation  of  confidence  you  can  do  so, 
you  will  send  it  to  me,  under  the  solemn  pledge  on  my  part 
of  its  safe  return  to  you.  I  enclose  envelope  and  stamps. 

"  Your  compliance  with  this  request  will  add  another  to 
the  many  obligations  I  already  owe  you. 
"  Your  friend, 

"  DAVID  E.  WINSTON." 

Slight  wonder  was  it  that  he  was  puzzled 
to  explain  to  Mr.  Sneed  the  reason  why  he 
should  wish  to  see  his  wife's  letter,  when  to 
have  saved  his  life  he  could  not  have  ex- 
plained to  himself  why  such  a  hungry, 
almost  passionate  yearning  had.  possessed 
him  to  see  it. 


256  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

Nor  was  the  yearning  appeased  until  a 
week  later,  when  the  slow-moving  mails 
brought  it,  carefully  enclosed  in  a  scrawl 
from  Mr.  Sneed  : 

"  DEER  SUB,  I  sends  cuzzin  Abby's  letter,  an'  you  muss  be 
shore  an'  sen'  it  back  ter  me,  fer  I  wuddent  take  a  forty- 
dollar  bill  fer  it. 

"  MILO  SXEED. 
"  Ps.  dident  we  wool  'em  thow  ?  " 

Tenderly  he  opened  the  precious  missive, 
still  redolent  with  the  fragrance  of  her 
sachet,  and  then  softly  kissing  the  name  he 
read  : 

"  My  FRIEND  AND  COUSIN: 

"  You  may  possibly  be  surprised  to  hear  from  me,  in  my 
far-away  home,  but  I  am  not  sd  far  away  that  my  heart 
does  not  go  fondly  back  to  its  dear  old  home  in  America, 
and  to  the  dear  friends  I  have  there.  I  often  think  of 
them,  and  never  without  silently  blessing  them.  I 
receive  the  papers  every  week  and  they  always  bring  me 
welcome  tidings.  I  see  by  the  Democratic  Clarion,  that 
Mr.  Winston  is  a  candidate  for  re-election.  My  dear 
father  told  me  once,  how  true  you  and  your  friends  were 
to  him  before,  and  how  glad  it  made  him  to  know  it.  Were 
he  still  alive  I  am  sure  that  he  would  ask  you  to  help  us 
now.  Will  you  think  it  selfish  in  me  to  ask  you  myself  ? 
If  you  can,  I  trust  you  will  help  him.  I  shall  thank  you 
for  every  word  you  may  speak  in  his  behalf,  as  sincerely  as 
if  spoken  for  my  own  self,  and  to  aid  you  in  the  good 
cause,  I  enclose  you  a  draft  on  the  firm  of  Whiting,  Stone 
&  Co.,  of  Charleston, for  two  hundred  dollars ;  any  merchant 
in  your  town  will  cash  it  for  you. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  257 

"  I  will  be  glad  to  hear  from  you,  and  if  there  is  anything 
that  I  can  do  for  you,  please  let  me  know,  and  I  trust  that 
you  will  ever  find  me  as  ready  and  willing  to  help  you  as 
you  have  always  found  my  father.  • 

"  Truly  your  friend  and  cousin, 

"  GRACE  ABIGAIL  WINSTON, 
"  FLORENCE,  ITALY,  Oct.  ist. 

P.  S.     I  should  have  told  you  that  I  am  living  in  the 
country,  a  few  miles  from  the  city  of  Florence,  but  I  send 
in  to  the  United  States  consulate  every  day  for  my  mail, 
and  should  you  write  to  me,  you  will  direct  your  letter  thus  : 
MRS.  G.  A.  WINSTON, 
"Care  of  United  States  Consulate, 

"FLORENCE,  ITALY. 

"  This  is  a  beautiful  country  but  not  nearly  so  beautiful  as 
our  own." 

"Ah!  Sweetheart,  sweet  sweetheart; 
poor,  tender,  gentle  heart ;  how  kind  it  was 
in  her  to  do  this  for  me  !  how  thoughtful 
and  how  kind  to  think  of  me  at  all !  Ah  ! 
what  would  I  not  give  to  go  to  her,  to  stand 
before  her  as  a  man,  and  to  ask  her  to  love 
me  ;  to  be  to  me  in  truth  what  she  is  in  the 
mockery  of  a  name,  only.  Ah  !  darling — 
darling  !  I  can  only  bless  you,  and  I  am 
not  even  worthy  to  do  that,"  and  again  kiss- 
ing the  letter  he  tenderly  folded  it  away  to 
be  sent  back  to  its  fortunate  keeper. 

That  evening  he  called  upon  his  sister, 
when  the  all-absorbing  subject  of  his  re- 
election was  brought  up : 


258 


"And  do  you  know,  sister,  that  it  was  all 
owing  to  her,  to  Grace,  I  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"To  Grace!  how?" 

"She  wrote  to  her  kinsman  and  friends 
in  Walker  and  secured  their  help  for  me ! 
It  was  only  that  that  saved  me. " 

"  Oh  !  is  that  so  ?  I  am  so  glad,  and, 
brother  Dave,  let  me  tell  you,  and  is  it  not 
a  singular  coincidence  ?  I  have  just  heard 
from  her  this  very  day  myself." 

"  Oh  !  have  you  ? "  with  an  eager  interrup- 
tion. 

"Yes!  I  have  a  letter  from  Pauline," 
Pauline  was  her  sister-in-law,  "and  she 
writes  how  they  stumbled  upon  a  Mrs. 
Winston,  near  Florence,  and  she  wants  to 
know  if  she  is  any  kin  to  me.  But,  here 
Kate,  take  the  baby  and  I  will  get  the  letter 
and  let  you  read  it  for  yourself." 

"  Give  me  baby." 

"  Oh  !  yes  ;  go  to  Unky  Davy.  Isn't  he  a 
tweet  'itty  feller  ?  Muzzer's  'ittle  darlin," 
surrendering  the  baby  with  a  kiss,  and 
hurrying  up  to  her  room  for  Pauline's  let- 
ter. 

"Yes,  here  it  is  !  It  only  came  to-day.  I 
I  will  read  it  to  you,"  she  cried,  returning 
in  a  minute,  and  seating  herself  close  to  the 
lamp  she  read : 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  259 

"  PALAZZO  DE  GOJTDA, 

"  FLORENCE,  Oct.  18th. 
"  MY  DEAR  SISTER  : 

I  wrote  you  from  Parma,  only  a  day  or  two  ago,  but  I 
have  to  write  again  so  soon  to  tell  you  about  one  of  the 
queerest  surprises  that  we  have  yet  had.  Well  !  You  see 
yesterday,  we  spent  in  doing  the  city,  visiting  the  galleries 
and  what  not,  and  so  this  morning  it  looked  so  pretty  out- 
doors that  Uncle  Jake  thought  that  we  would  take  a  little 
excursion  into  the  country  (or  compayna,  as  they  call  it 
here),  to  see  the  way  the  Italians  farm. — You  see  he,  and 
mamma,  are  looking  out  for  new  kinks  in  farming,  and 
mamma  wanted  to  see  how  they  raised  maccaroni  ;  she 
thinks  that  with  our  fine  climate  we  can  raise  it  as  well  on  the 
plantation  as  they  can  here.  And  so,  after  an  early  break- 
fast a  long,  gawky  guide  came  around  with  an  open  barouche 
for  mamma  and  Sue  and  me,  and  a  scrawny- looking  horse  for 
Uncle  Jake.  The  weather  promised  just  splendid,  and  we 
started  out  in  high  glee,  expecting  to  make  a  day  of  it,  but 
we  hadn'  t  gone  more  than  five  or  six  miles  before  all  at 
once  a  storm  rose  up  and  there  we  were,  with  Sue  threat- 
ened with  a  chill  anyhow.  We  were  in  a  terrible  pickle, 
until  a  turn  in  the  road  brought  us  .in  sight  of  one  of  the 
coziest,  cunningest,  loveliest  little  nests  of  a  cottage  you 
ever  saw.  And  what  do  you  think  we  saw  grinning  at  the 
gate  ?  I  just  know  you  could  never  guess  in  all  your  born 
days  and  so  I  will  tell  you  ;  will  you  believe  it  ?  It  was  the 
coal-black  face,  white  eyes  and  ivory  teeth  of  a  sure 
enough  negro  girl,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear.  It  likjd  to 
have  taken  my  breath  to  see  her,  and  my  very  heart  was 
glad.  It  was  the  first  honest  face  we  had  seen  since  we 
had  touched  the  Continent.  '  Ah  ! '  says  mamma,  '  we 
can  find  shelter  here,'  and  she  told  the  guide  by  signs  to 
stop.  (You  see  the  dolt  can't  understand  a  word  we  say 
although  he  assured  Uncle  Jake  that.  '  Me  speakee  vera 
weel  Anglice,'  when  he  can't  speak  it  at  all).  However  we 
pay  him  back  in  Italian  just  as  bad.'  So  Uncle  Jake  told 


260  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

him  to  ask  the  negro  if  we  could  get  shelter  from  the 
storm,  and  he  jabbered  something  to  her  when  she  broke 
and  ran  into  the  house  as  if  we  had  been  a  band  of  brigands 
come  to  plunder  the  place.  But  soon  a  lady  came  out,  and 
oh  I  sister  Gussie  !  you  should  only  see  that  lady,  the 
pretiest  and  sweetest  face  I  ever  looked  upon.  She  re- 
minded me  at  once  of  the  picture  of  the  Madonna,  and  we 
all  three  whispered  in  the  same  breath,  '  Oh  !  how  beau- 
tiful ! '  She  jabbered  out  something  to  U  ncle  Jake  who 
had  ridden  forward  to  the  gate,  and  was  bowing  with  his 
hat  off  and  staring  with  all  his  eyes,  when  the  guide  spoke 
something  to  her  in  the  same  outlandish  lingo,  when,  with 
a  smile,  she  came  forward,  quite  to  the  gate,  and  spoke  in 
the  sweetest  of  English  :  "  Your  guide  tells  me  you  are 
English  tourists  and  wish  shelter  from  the  storm.  I  shall 
be  very  glad  to  offer  mine,"  and  then  she  opened  the  gate, 
and  her  manner  was  so  cordial  and  sweet  that  we  all  lum- 
bled  out  at  once  and  walked  right  in,  and  I  felt  at  home 
the  very  minute  I  put  my  foot  in  the  door.  And  then  the 
negro,  she  was  just  as  much  like  home  as  home  could  be 
itself,  and  I  could  hardly  keep  my  hands  off  from  kissing 
her,  black  as  she  was.  Everything  was  so  nice  and  so  free 
and  so  home-like,  that  we  were  not  long  in  getting  ac- 
quainted, for  when  mamma  told  her  that  we  were  not 
Englishmen  at  all,  but  Americans,  and  from  the  south  at 
that,  she  looked  just  like  she  had  found  a  long-lost  tribe  of 
cousins,  and  uncles,  and  aunts,  and  then  she  said,  with 
a  kind  of  sad  smile,  that  she  was  from  the  south  too,  and 
that  only  made  us  the  closer  acquainted.  She  is  a  Charles- 
ton lady,  and  with  another  one,  there  are  two  of  them,  a 
Miss  Whiting  from  the  same  city,  is  living  here  all  by 
themselves.  Their  relative,  Mr.  Whiting,  is  a  rich  cotton 
merchant  and  stays  the  most  of  his  time  in  Liverpool.  All 
this  I  found  out  from  the  negro  girl,  Nanny  is  her  name. 
The  storm  lasted  until  afternoon  and  we  had  to  stay  for 
dinner,  which  was  a  treat,  I  assure  you.  (Sue  is  rolling  all 
over  the  bed  now,  for  eating  too  much  of  the  snow-white 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  261 

honey.)  After  dinner  we  had  music,  and  such  music  !  the 
sweetest  song  I  ever  heard.  Sue  commenced  it;  she  saw  the 
piano  in  the  little  parlor  and  commenced  to  bang  away, 
which  led  to  me,  and  then  Uncle  Jake  to  be  polite  asked 
her  for  a  song,  which,  to  be  polite,  she  had  to  sing  of  course. 
She  sang  l  Within'  a  Mile  o'  Edinboro'  Town  '  and  she  just 
completely  captivated  us  all.  It  fairly  lifted  Uncle  Jake 
out  of  his  boots,  and  I  will  tell  you  seriously,  sister 
Gussie,  Uncle  Jake  has  met  his  fate  at  last.  He  is  just 
dead  in  love  with  her  and  he  has  altered  all  our  plans.  We 
were  to  have  started  to  Rome  to-morrow,  but  he  has  stopped 
the  baggage  and  taken  rooms  here  for  a  month.  And  what 
is  funniest  of  all  mamma  encourages  him  in  it,  and  is  as 
much  pleased  with  the  match  as  he  is.  If  the  lady  is  all 
right,  and  I  am  sure  she  is,  for  such  a  sweet  face  could  not 
hide  anything  wrong — there  is  nothing  but  goodness  written 
all  over  it — I  think  myself  that  Uncle  Jake  will  do  well  to  get 
her.  But,  sister,  the  strangest  part  of  it  all  is  her  name  ; 
Her  name  is  Winston.  I  wonder  if  she  is  any  kin  to  your 
people  ?  She  is  a  widow  and  very  rich  ;  (this  much 
mamma  wormed  out  of  Miss  Whiting,  who  is  also  a  very 
nice  person.)  She  has  no  children,  though,  and  it  would 
make  no  difference  with  Uncle  Jake  if  she  had  a  dozen,  he 
would  be  willing  to  lump  them  all  to  get  her.  I  don't  think 
she  ever  had  any,  for  she  looks  too  young  and  is  as  fresh 
and  rosy  as  you  were  the  night  you  were  married.  We  have 
tried  to  find  out  all  we  could  through  the  guide  but  he  is 
too  stupid  to  know  anything,  and  all  he  can  tell  is  that  she 
is  called  the  Lady  Princess.  She  is  lovely  enough  for  a 
princess  and  gracious  enough  for  a  queen,  but  she  doesn't 
pretend  to  be  either.  Uncle  Jake  is  completely  on  his  head 
about  her,  and  while  he  is  always  talking  about  her  himself 
'he  flares  up  like  a  fire  cracker  if  we  so  much  as  hint  any- 
thing wrong  about  her.  This  is  a  sure  sign,  mamma  says. 
"We  are  going  out  again  to-morrow,  and  she  has  prom- 
ised to  come  in  the  next  day  after  to  show  us  all  the  rarer 
sights  of  the  city,  which  strangers  cannot  find  for  them- 


262  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

selves.  You  may  wonder  at  this  rapid  progress  in  a  chance 
acquaintance,  but  you  should  know  that  when  one  is  so  far 
away  from  home  a  common  nationality  makes  us  all  akin. 
The  first  sight  of  Nanny,  the  negro  girl,  endeared  them  to 
us  at  once,  and  Nanny  seemed  just  as  glad  to  see  us. 

"  But  I  have  spun  this  letter  to  a  tiresome  length.  I  will 
write  again,  soon,  and  let  you  know  how  Uncle  Jake  is  mak- 
ing it.  If  she  is  to  be  won,  and  a  dear  good,  kind  hearted 
and  handsome  gentleman  can  win  her,  we  will  carry  a  new 
aunt  back  home  with  us,  or  else  leave  the  best  uncle  in 
all  the  world  behind  back  here. 

"  My  love  to  brother  Wat.     Kiss  baby  for  me  and  when 
you  see  Charlie  tell  him  that  I  am  still  as  mad  as  ever. 
"  Your  loving  Sister, 

"  PAULIXE  F.  GUAVES." 

"There,  isn't  that  a  romance  for  you?" 
asked  the  sister  as  she  finished  the  letter. 

"It  promises  to  be,  at  any  rate.  It  is 
ridiculous !  the  idea  of  that  conceited  old 
fool  Jake,  aspiring  to  her  hand  ;  she  wouldn't 
think  of  such  a  thing." 

"But  why  not  ?  He  is  not  so  old  ;  he  is 
handsome,  rich  and  accomplished,  and  is 
really  a  good  catch  for  any  girl.  I,  entre 
nous,"  with  a  little  blush,  "came  very  near 
setting  my  cap  for  him  myself,  before 
Walter  came.  But,  brother  Dave,  could  she 
marry  him  or  any  other  man  and  you  still 
living  ?  Did  your  marriage  really  count  for 
nothing?" 

"Yes,  for  nothing,  or  less  than  nothing. 
It  was  a  hollow  mockery  and  can  be  set  aside. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  263 

I  will  release  her  whenever  she  asks  it.  I 
ought  not,  perhaps  to  wait  for  her  to  ask  it, 
but  it  is  her  right.  She  understands  that 
she  has  only  to  petition  for  a  divorce,  for  one 
to  be  granted.  Even  were  I  dog  enough  to 
contest  it  she  could  get  it  anyhow.  But  I 
shall  not  contest ;  I  shall  do  all  I  possibly 
can  to  forward  her  wishes,  only  somehow  it 
would  hurt  me  to  see  her  throw  herself  away 
on  such  a  'masher'  as  Jake  Gorman. 
Heigh-ho  !  But  it  can  be  none  of  my  busi- 
ness, and  if  he  is  lucky  enough  to  win  her, 
well,  he  will  have  to  wear  her.  But,  Gussie, 
it  was  a  miserable  thing  for  me  that  we  ever 
met.  But  the  idea  of  that  old  blas£,  bald- 
headed  bachelor  winning  such  a  peerless 
woman  !  Fudge  !  Here,  devil  take  it,  take 
the  baby.  It  makes  me  sick  to  think  about 
it.  Why,  in  the  name  of  goodness,  didn't 
you  catch  him  yourself,  that  would  have 
settled  his  hash.  Good-bye !  I  leave  for 
Washington  to-night.  Write  as  soon  as  you 
hear  from  Miss  Pauline  and  let  me  know 
how  the  farce  turns  out.  Tell  Pauline  to 
throw  Charlie  over,  and  if  this  thing  does 
happen,  I  will  marry  her  myself  just  for 
spite." 

"  Yes,  and  you  will  do  well  to  get  her,  if, 
after  throwing  away  such  a  girl  as  Grace, 


264  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

you  could  ever  have  the  heart  to  marry 
another.  Do  you  know  that  I  always  did 
think  that  you  were  silly  in  not  courting 
Pauline  at  first,  instead  of  wasting  yourself 
on  that  incorrigible  flirt, .Gertrude  Garden." 

"Perhaps  so.  But,  then  I  always  was  a 
fool  where  women  were  concerned.  But  tell 
me  :  do  you  ever  hear  of,  or  see  Gertrude  ? " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  saw  her  yesterday." 

"  Ah  !    What  was  she  doing  ? " 

"  Oh  !  you  can  never  guess." 

"  Chewing  tulu?" 

"  Pshaw!    No." 

"Then  tell  me?" 

"  Oh  !  I  know  it  will  shock  you,  but  then 
it  is  so  ;  like  the  Ettrick  Shepherd's  quon- 
dam belle,  in  the  Noctes  Ambrosianae  she 
was  '  sitting  on  the  porch  sooklin'  twins.' ' 

"Good  Lord  !  what  a  happy  deliverance  !  " 

"Yes,  but  they  were  really  pretty  babies, 
and  she  seemed  just  as  proud  of  them  as  if 
they  had  been  triplets.  Her  husband,  Mr. 
Hardie,  they  say  has  turned  out  to  be  a  first- 
rate  fellow  and  is  devoted  to  her.  But  they 
do  say  that  she  henpecks  him  awfully. 

"Good,  good!  layon,  Macduff."  But  now 
I  must  go.  I  warn  you  to  keep  a  sharp  look- 
out on  Miss  Pauline.  I  am  just  desperate 
enough  for  any  exploit.  Heigh-ho  !  Good- 
bye." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  265 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  CONJUNCTION  OF  VENUS  AND  JUPITER. 

IT  was  not  altogether  an  unaccountable 
pique  that  hurried  the  young  congressman 
back  to  Washington.  His  help  was  needed 
in  finishing  up  much  left-over  committee 
work,  in  order  to  be  ready  for  the  opening 
of  the  coming  session. 

His  party  had  been  successful  all  along 
the  line,  and  in  addition  to  the  Adminis- 
tration would  have  a  safe  working  majority 
in  both  houses. 

This  was  a  matter  of  party  pride,  and  of 
party  gratulation,  and,  added  to  the  satis- 
faction of  his  own  re-election,  should  have 
made  the  young  statesman  hilarious  in 
spirits,  and  put  him  in  good  humor  with 
himself  and  with  all  mankind.  But  some- 
how the  happy  concatenation  failed  of  its 
enthusiasm,  and  his  spirits  were  strangely 
dull,  and  his  face  wore  such  a  look  of  sober 
dejection  that  strangers  in  passing  had  to 
turn  to  note  it.  His  friends  wondered  at 
it,  and  he  himself  was  a  little  puzzled  to 


266  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

know.  He  felt  as  a  wanderer  in  the  dark 
must  feel,  when,  lifted  up  by  the  sudden 
gleam  of  a  light  ahead,  sees  the  light  as 
suddenly  flicker  out,  leaving  him  to  grope 
his  way  through  the  inky  darkness,  more 
helpless  than  ever.  Indeed,  something  of 
this  character  was  in  truth  the  cause  of  his 
despondency.  The  unexpected  but  timely 
interest  manifested  by  his  discarded  wife, 
in  his  welfare,  had  flashed  up  like  a  aurora 
of  promise  to  his  lonely  way  and  uncon- 
sciously to  himself  had  lifted  his  spirits  up 
out  of  their  disconsolate  depths,  when,  like  a 
muffler,  dropped  without  warning,  came  the 
gossipy  letter  of  Miss  Pauline  Graves,  and 
now  his  way  seemed  rougher  than  ever,  and 
the  darkness  more  dreaiy. 

He  knew  Jake  Gorman  to  be  a  prince 
among  women ;  rich,  handsome,  accom- 
plished, and  possessing  that  rare  magnetism 
which  seems  to  attract  with  unerring  pre- 
cision the  delicately  poised  needle  of  social 
femininity,  and  knowing  him  thus  he  felt  him 
to  be -a  dangerous,  if  not  invincible  rival. 

That  he,  Gorman,  was  not  a  benedict  was 
not  for  the  want  of  a  Beatrice.  He  could,  out 
of  the  loveliest  of  all  the  lovely  women  of 
his  acquaintance,  have  picked  his  choice. 
Ever  since  he  had  returned  from  the  Univer- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  267 

sity  a  dashing  young  Bachelor  of  Arts,  he  had 
been  the  object  of  all  the  scheming  mammas 
as  well  as  the  craze  of  all  the  giddy  young 
ladies.  That  none  had  captured  him  was  less 
their  fault,  either  of  charms  or  of  effort, 
than  the  fault  of  his  own  perverse  fancy. 
None  had  yet  been  able  to  touch  that  tender 
spot,  which  we  are  to  suppose  is  to  be  found  in 
every  manly  heart.  The  one  who  did  touch 
it  would  certainly  be  his  wife,  for  surely  no 
woman,  heart-whole  and  fancy  free,  could 
resist  the  blandishments  of  such  a  man.  All 
these  things  David  Winston  knew,  for  they 
had  been  friends  since  boyhood,  and  now  to 
be  told  that  she,  the  peerless  woman  who 
was  so  much  and  yet  so  little  to  him;  so 
near  and  yet  so  far  away,  and  in  whose 
presence  he  was  henceforth  to  stand  a  moral 
pariah,  was  the  one  woman  who  had  touched 
that  exclusive  heart;  the  one  woman  in  all 
the  wide,  wide  world  whom  Jake  Gorman  had 
determined  to  marry,  was  to  be  told  that  the 
future  was  to  hold  nothing  of  love ;  life 
nothing  of  sweetness  for  him,  and  that  all 
through  the  dreary  way  he  must  walk 
through  darkness  and  tread  upon  ashes. 

Little  wonder,  then,  was  it,  that  the 
thought  sobered  him,  and  that  the  pleasing 
lines  of  his  handsome  face  were  often  knit 


268  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

into  ugly  frowns.  But  he  was  no  coward, 
no  weakling  in  moral  stamina,  albeit,  he  did 
waver  once  in  cowardly  indecision,  as  he 
debated  the  propriety  of  resigning  his  place 
in  congress  and  hurrying  abroad  to  find  her, 
and,  all  unworthy  as  he  was,  to  force  him- 
self into  her  presence,  and  upon  her  life,  to 
claim  and  to  seize  her  as  his  own,  and  to 
trust  to  a  lifetime  of  tenderness  to  win  back 
her  respect,  if  not  her  love. 

"But,  no,"  he  murmured,  sadly,  after  the 
struggle  had  ended  and  his  manliness  had 
conquered,  "  I  have  no  right  to  trouble  her 
ever  again.  If  Jake  loves  her,  as  I  am  sure 
he  must  love  her,  he  will  win  her  love,  and 
she  will  be  happy.  It  is  her  right  to  love 
and  be  loved,  and  Jake  Gorman,  much  as  I 
find  myself  beginning  to  hate  him,  will  per- 
haps make  her  a  good  husband.  Confound 
him  !  I  could  call  him  out.  But  no,  I  shall 
not  interfere,  but  will  take  all  the  blame 
upon  myself  and  have  the  courts  to  release 
her  whenever  she  asks  it." 

And  thus  resolved,  he  put  his  foot  firmly 
down  upon  it  and  addressed  himself  with  re- 
doubled zeal  to  his  public  duties. 

It  was  nearly  a  month  before  he  heard 
anything  further  from  Miss  Pauline  Graves, 
and  then  his  sister  only  sent  him  an  extract 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL,  269 

from  her  last  letter.    It  was  to  the  point  and 
read  as  follows  : 

"Well,  after  doing  his  level  best,  looking  his  sweetest, 
dressing  his  neatest,  wasting  a  mill-pond  full  of  perfume, 
and  aided  and  abetted  by  mamma,  Sue,  and  me  putting  in 
a  good  word  every  chance  we  got,  poor  Uncle  Jake  has  got 
it  at  last  ;  the  most  complete  and  flattest  sit-down  upon  you 
ever  saw,  and  now  he  is  the  most  utterly  flabbergasted  old 
bachelor  you  ever  heard  of  in  all  your  life.  It  is  really 
pitiful  to  see  him.  It  was  so  unexpected  you  see.  It  was  his 
first,  and  I  am  sure  it  will  be  his  last,  for  he  really  loved 
the  lady,  as  well  he  may,  for  a  more  lovely  and  lovable 
woman  I  never  saw. 

I  do  wish  that  you  could  see  her,  as  I  did  the  other  day,  as, 
all  unbeknown  to  her  I  watched  her  sitting  in  her  cool  sum- 
mer dress  looking  through  the  window,  away  out  over  the 
fields  as  if  her  thoughts  had  crossed  the  wide  ocean  in  search 
of  a  truant  sweetheart,  or  else  a  runaway  husband.  I  won- 
dered if  she  wasn't  thinking  of  '  the  late  lamented,'  and  I 
thought  then  that  it  was  a  bad  sign  for  Uncle  Jake.  But  her 
conduct  throughout  the  whole  matter  has  been  very  nice, 
and  as  proper  as  proper  could  be,  just  such  as  one  might 
expect  from  a  high-born,  true-hearted  lady.  She  did  not 
court  his  attentions,  but  was  only  glad  to  see  us  all  be- 
cause we  were  Americans  and  from  the  South,  but  she  had 
no  more  idea  of  Uncle  Jake's  courting  her  than  she  had  of 
mamma  herself .  It  was  only  when  he  began  to  let  his  little 
sighs  pop  out,  and  to  wall  his  eyes  up  to  the  ceiling  when 
she  sang  for  us  that  she  began  to  smell  a  mouse,  and  then 
you  ought  to  have  seen  the  way  she  hauled  in  her  horns  and 
crawled  back  in  her  shell  like  a  scared  snail.  Uncle  Jake 
thought  that  it  was  only  a  little  coquettish  finesse  she  was 
practicing  to  toll  him  on,  so  he  bristled  up  the  bolder,  and 
giving  me  the  wink  yesterday  to  get  out  of  the  room,  he 
hemmed  her  in  a  corner  and  went  down  on  his  knees  in 
cavalier  style  and  popped  the  question  straight  out  (I  was 


270  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

peeping  all  the  while  through  the  key-hole),  but,  alas  for 
Uncle  Jake,  it  was  no  go,  and  now  we  are  all  in  a  hurly-burly 
packing  up  to  get  away.  Uncle  Jake  is  not  mad,  but  like  the 
ghost  in  Hamlet  he  wears  a  sorrowing  countenance.  He 
thinks  that  it  is  all  because  of  the  Count  that  she  kicked  him. 
A  Count  Pacetti,  a  rich  nobleman, who,  it  is  said,  is  negotiat- 
ing with  the  American  Consul  for  her  hand,  and  it  is  this 
that  cuts  him,  but  he  does  not  blame  her,  only  I  would  be 
sorry  for  Uncle  Jake  to  meet  him,  for  I  am  sure  he  would 
spit  in  his  face.  He  is  desperate  enough  for  anything." 

"This,"  added  Augusta,  in  her  letter,  "is  all  she  says 
about  it,  and  so  you  see  it  all  turns  out  just  as  I  told  you  so. 
If  she  ever  marries  again  it  will  be  to  some  count,  or  earl, 
or  duke,  or  maybe  a  prince,  who  will  give  her  the  social  dis- 
tinction she  deserves.  She  is  fitted  to  shine  in  any  court, 
and  I  do  not  blame  her  for  aspiring  to  its  honors,  only  I 
could  just  choke  you  for  letting  her  go.  Babie  has  three 
more  teeth  and  is  just  as  sweet  as  he  can  be.  I  started  to 
read  your  speech,  and  was  very  proud  of  it,  but  babie  jerked 
it  out  of  my  hands  and  tore  it  into  shreds.  He  is  just 
the  cutest  little  fellow  you  ever  saw.  Papa  got  a  letter 
from  Grace  herself,  yesterday,  asking  his  advice  about  sell- 
ing her  house  on  Colbert  Avenue,  and  the  furniture,  so  you 
see  that  she  has  no  idea  of  ever  coming  back  again,  and  I 
just  bet  you  anything  that  Uncle  Jake  is  right  about  that 
Count.  Only  think  of  Grace  as  the  Countess  Pacetti  !  I 
catch  myself  courtesying  to  her.  Babie  can  say  ma-ma  and 
pa-pa  just  as  plain  as  anything.  It  would  be  too  bad, 
wouldn't  it  ?  I  mean  to  have  her  to  marry  away  over  there 
and  to  be  lost  to  us  forever.  It  would  be  something  to  be 
proud  of  though,  wouldn't  it  ?  to  have  a  countess,  a  real, 
live  countess  for  a  sister-in-law.  But,  oh!  I  forgot;  she 
would  not  be  my  sister-in-law  any  longer,  would  she  ? 
That  is  too  bad  !  Babie  says  '  Peet  e  boo.'  She  also  told 
papa  that  if  he  could  do  so,  without  embarrassing  the  bank 
here,  to  withdraw  all  her  deposits  and  transfer  them  to  the 
Bank  of  Charleston.  That  looks  suspicious,  too,  don't  it? 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  271 

Either  Mr.  Whiting  is  working  his  '  rabbit-foot '  on  her  to 
get  to  handle  her  money,  or  else  she  has  an  eye  on  some- 
thing else.  At  any  rate,  papa  thinks  that  it  means  a  wind- 
ing up  of  her  business  here  for  good  and  all,  and  so  does 
Walter.  But,  here  comes  babie,  and  I  must  take  him  for  a 
romp. 

"  Your  loving  sister, 

"AUGUSTA  V.  GKAVES. 
"P.S. — Babie  sends  a  kiss." 

What  a  spiteful  thing  it  was  in  David 
Winston  to  so  exult  over  the  discomfited  suit 
of  his  quondam  friend.  But  he  did  exult, 
fairly  chuckled  in  savage  delight,  as  he 
kicked  off  his  slipper  in  the  execution  of  an 
involuntary  war  dance.  And  yet  David 
Winston  was  not  a  heartless  man. 

"  Oh  !  she  refused  him.  Of  course  she  did. 
I  was  a  fool  for  ever  fearing  anything  else, 
and  Jake  was  a  fool  for  trying  it.  Ha-ha  ! 
poor  fellow — flabbergasted  !  Yes,  that's  the 
word.  What  a  clever  little  philologist  Miss 
Pauline  must  be  to  pick  out  such  an  expres- 
sive word.  She  deserves  an  academy  medal. 
Flabbergasted.  Ha-ha  !  I  should  say  he  was. 
Poor  Jake !  How  art  the  mighty  fallen  ! 
Sic  transit  gloria  mundi.  But,  my  dear 
Jake,  you  should  have  known  better  !  "  and 
for  the  first  time  in  many  a  weary  day, 
David  Winston  dropped  back  in  his  chair 
and  laughed  a  soft,  deep,  self-satisfied  and 


272  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

self -satisfying  laugh.  "  But,  oh,  hell !  Ah  ! 
I  mean  hello.  What  is  this  infernal  non- 
sense about  a  count  ?  Let  me  see,  what  it  is 
she  says, "  sobering  up  a  little  at  the  recollec- 
tion. "The  Countess  Pacetti.  Babie  can 
say — Damn  it  all,  who  cares  what  the  baby 
says  ?  Let  me  see  what  Pauline  says.  Gus- 
sie  is  so  full  of  babies  that  she  don't  know 
what  she  is  talking  about.  Ah  !  yes,  here  is 
what  Pauline  says.  '  He  thinks  that  it  is  all 
because  of  the  count  that  she  kicked  him. 
A  Count  Pacetti,  who,  it  is  said,  is  negotiat- 
ing with  the  American  Consul  for  her  hand.' 
Humph  !  That's  all  nonsense.  The  Ameri- 
can Consul  has  no  more  to  do  with  her  hand 
than  I  have.  It  may  be,  though,  that  she 
has  referred  the  matter  of  marriage  settle- 
ments to  the  Consul  for  advice,  and  if  so, 
there  is  something  serious  in  it.  '  And  it  is 
this  that  cuts  him.  But  he  does  not  blame 
her,  only  I  should  be  sorry  for  Uncle  Jake 
to  meet  him,  for  I  am  sure  ho  would  spit  in 
his  face,  for  he  is  desperate  enough  for  any- 
thing.' Good !  Godspeed  the  meeting. 
How  I  wish  I  was  there  to  see  it  well  done. 
There  would  be  but  little  left  of  the  count,  for 
Jake  is  a  dead  shot.  But,  pooh  !  why  should 
I  care  ?  It  is  no  quarrel  of  mine.  Heigh- 
ho  !  I  wish  it  was ;  somehow  I  feel  that  I 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  273 

should  like  to  exchange  compliments  with  the 
count  myself.  Well,  well,  perhaps  I  shall. 
It  would  be  more  manly  than  to  stand  by 
and  see  the  generous,  big-hearted  Jake  do  it 
for  me.  And,  by  Jove,  I  will.  I  shall  start 
this  very  night.  I  shall  go  and  end  the 
matter  at  once.  Better  to  be  killed  at  a 
blow  than  to  live  on  such  a  life  as  mine," 
and  could  he,  on  the  spur  of  that  moment, 
have  stood  face  to  face  with  the  Count 
Pacetti,  it  would  have  been  short  shrift  for 
one  or  both  of  them. 

But  before  the  night  came  he  had  had  time 
for  more  sober  reflection,  and  with  the  sober 
thought  came  a  sense  of  his  folly,  and  dis- 
mally murmuring,  "  It  is  none  of  my  busi- 
ness. I  have  "no  right  to  interfere.  I  am 
nothing  to  her,  and  if  she  prefers  this  count 
to,  honest  Jake  Gorman  or  to  myself,  it  is 
her  own  affair,"  and  to  fortify  himself  for 
the  day's  debate  he  had  to  shut  out  all  further 
thought  of  the  matter  and  address  himself 
to  the  weightier  affairs  of  state. 

And  so  time  went  on,  as  time  is  bound  to 
go.  The  excitement  of  the  short  but  bitter 
session  was  closed  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
presidential  inauguration,  and  Winston  re- 
turned to  his  cases  in  the  summer  and  fall 

courts,  sufficiently  freed  from  his  own  in- 
18 


274  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

dividual  cares,  to  acceptably  look  after  the 
legal  and  illegal  cares  of  his  clients. 

The  autumn  came  again  after  a  while, 
and  nestling  in  it,  the  sober  month  of  Octo- 
ber, bringing  with  it  the  third  anni  versa  ry 
of  his  marriage.  Three  years  wedded,  and 
in  all  that  time  not  one  loving  word  to  or 
from  the  woman  he  had  married  ;  not  one 
kiss  from  the  sweetest  lips  that  ever  smiled 
upon  a  husband's  devotion.  He  was  twenty- 
five  then,  he  was  twenty-eight  now,  sober, 
settled  and  staid.  Home,  desolate  as  it  was 
to  his  life,  was  the  one  spot  dearer  than  all 
others  in  the  world  to  him.  How  his  heart 
would  have  blessed  the  wifely  presence  that 
could  have  presided  over  that  home  ;  and 
how  his  heart  did  long,  with  a  nameless 
yearning,  for  such  a  vivifying  presence  ! 

Through  his  father,  to  whom  she  wrote 
on  business,  he  had  heard  from  his  wife  at 
long  intervals,  each  succeeding  interval  be- 
coming longer  as  time  seemed  to  be  widen- 
ing the  distance  between  her  and  her  interest 
here.  Of  the  Count  Pacetti,  he  heard  noth- 
ing more  save  the  little  gossipy  account 
Miss  Pauline  Graves  gave  on  her  return 
from  their  travels.  It  was  curious  how 
eagerly  he  listened  to  that  young  lady's 
spirited  recital  of  the  Florentine  episode,  as 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  275 

she  dwelt  with  loving  enthusiasm  upon  the 
marvelous  beauty  and  sweetness  of  the  lady, 
and  winding  up  always,  with  a  sigh  of  pity 
for  poor  Uncle  Jake,  and  a  pretty  tilt  of  the 
nose  at  the  assurance  of  the  count. 

He  wondered  at  her  delay  in  not  asking 
for  her  divorce,  but  he  felt  that  it  was  but  a 
delay,  tantalizing  indeed  to  him,  but  a  delay 
against  which  he  could  not  in  decency  pro- 
test. For  himself  he  could  not  ask  one,  for 
he  would  never  need  one.  Hungry  as  his 
heart  longed  for  wifely  love  and  a  wife's 
sympathy,  he  had  no  thought  of  ever  marry- 
ing again.  The  bare  suggestion  of  such  a 
possibility  would  have  flushed  his  cheek  with 
anger.  Had  the  fair  hand  of  the  Princess 
Alice  of  England  been  offered  him  in  mar- 
riage he  would  have  rejected  the  offer  in 
indignant  scorn. 

Then  why,  we  wonder,  did  he  not  seek  a 
reconciliation  with  his  wife,  the  woman  who, 
though  unseen  and  so  far  away,  had,  with  a 
subtle  psychological  alchemy,  almost  mag- 
ical, transmuted  the  bitter  ashes  of  his  hate 
and  scorn  into  golden  links  of  the  sweetest 
affection  ;  drawing  him  closer  and  stronger 
and  tighter  day  by  day  to  her,  whom  he 
now  loved  with  a  love  that  would  not  permit 
any  other  !  Ah,  why  !  Who  can  account 


276  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

for  the  perversity  of  the  human  mind  ?  One 
to  know,  would  have  to  put  one's-self  in  his 
place,  and  then  perhaps  would  have  been  no 
nearer  the  solution,  for  it  is  extremely  doubt- 
ful if  the  poor  fellow  himself  could  have 
told. 

But  while  the  October  brought  round 
another  anniversary  of  his  wedding  morn,  it 
had  been  kinder  still  to  his  gentle  sister 
Augusta,  and  brought  to  her  and  her  happy 
lord  another  baby. 

Little  David,  now  in  kilts  and  Sunday 
pants,  had  been  turned  over  to  Mammy 
Kate,  and  a  little  sister  was  now  the  "  tweet- 
est,  darlingest  'ittle  sing  "  in  all  the  world  to 
its  happy  mother. 

And  it  happened  that  on  this,  the  black- 
letter  day  of  his  life,  David  Winston  had 
called  to  congratulate  his  sister,  and  to  see 
the  new  baby.  Perhaps  it  was  thinking  of 
the  day  that  made  him  so  sober,  and  made 
his  kiss  so  tender  as  he  stooped  to  greet  his 
sister. 

The  baby  was  fished  up  from  its  nest  in 
the  crib  and,  not  so  gingerly  as  the  little 
David  had  been  two  years  before,  it  was  un- 
wrapped and  placed  in  "  Unky  Davy's " 
arms  for  inspection  and  admiration.  Uncle 
David  was  no  connoisseur  in  babies,  but  he 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  277 

had  the  good  taste  to  see  that  this  was  a  re- 
markably fine  child,  and  the  still  better  taste 
to  declare  it. 

"  Why,  Gussie,  it  is  really  a  pretty 
baby." 

• '  Yes,  indeed  it  is ;  the  sweetest  little 
precious,  and  baby  wants  its  Uncle  David  to 
unme  it.  Will  you  name  the  baby, 
brother  ? " 

' '  Ah,  well  !  I  am  not  much  on  names,  but 
suppose  we  call  it  James  Buchanan  ?  " 

"Mercy  me!  the  idea!"  with  a  positive 
shock. 

"It's  not  that  kind  of  a  cat,"  laughed 
Walter. 

"Oh!  It's  a  girl  is  it  ?  Ah,  then  I  didn't 
know.  Yes,  I  see  now,  it's  too  pretty  for 
a  boy.  Well,  sister,  may  I  name  her  ? " 
soberly. 

"  Certainly,  I  wish  you  to." 

"Then,  sister,  I  name  her  Abigail " 

"  Great  Jehoshaphat,"  involuntarily  pro- 
tested the  father. 

"  Yes  !  Abigail,"  stooping  and  kissing  the 
little  face  with  a  reverence  that  sobered 
Walter,  and  silenced  all  opposition. 

"  You  name  her  for  Grace  ?  Yes,  she  shall 
be  named  Abigail,"  said  the  mother,  "Grace 
Abigail,  and  we  will  call  her  Abigail." 


278  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

And  the  next  Sunday,  when  they  went  to 
church,  and  Uncle  David  stood  sponsor  at 
the  font,  the  baby  was  christened  Grace  Abi- 
gail, and  from  that  moment  there  seemed  to 
be  a  silent  blessing  stealing  in  and  softening 
the  heart  of  the  godfather. 

And,  having  named  the  baby,  the  young 
statesman  went  back  to  Washington  to 
plunge  again  into  the  whirlpool  of  politics  on 
Capitol  Hill. 

The  session  that  followed  was  a  long  and 
troubled  one,  and  June  came,  to  find  the 
Congress  still  behind  with  the  appropriation 
bills.  The  debate  on  the  Kansas-Nebraska 
bill  still  held  the  House,  and  day  by  day 
vituperative  hate  was  busily  sowing  the  seeds 
that  were  soon  to  spring  up,  like  dragons' 
teeth,  to  ripen  into  disunion,  war,  bloodshed, 
and  ruin. 

It  was  a  day  of  unusual  interest  in  the 
House.  Two  of  the  gladiatorial  giants  were 
to  meet  in  the  arena  and  tear  each  other  to 
pieces  for  the  delectation  of  the  galleries. 
Every  available  seat  in  the  hall  and  the  lob- 
bies were  filled  and  the  galleries  were  liter- 
ally packed. 

The  debate  was  opened  by  the  gentleman 
from  Borealis,  who,  with  an  eloquence  worthy 
a  better  cause,  pictured  the  "brutal,  domi- 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  279 

neering  principle  of  the  slave-ocracy — its  ag- 
gressive greed  for  territory,  its  aristocratic 
thirst  for  power  and  dominion,"  and  de- 
nouncing the  Constitution  of  the  Govern- 
ment itself,  which  gave  life  and  right  to 
such  a  system,  as  "A  covenant  with  death 
and  a  league  with  hell "  ;  and  appealing,  in 
an  eloquent  peroration,  amid  the  drunken 
applause  of  party  friends,  from  such  a  cove- 
nant to  that  "Higher  Law"  to  which  the 
poorest  slave,  writhing  under  the  brutal  lash 
of  the  beastly  driver,  had  the  heaven-born 
right  to  appeal. 

To  this  lava-burst  of  seething  eloquence, 
glistening  like  liquid  silver,  but  reeking  with 
the  sulphurous  fumes  of  treason  itself,  Win- 
ston replied. 

With  an  outpour  of  eloquence  equally  as 
thrilling,  and  perhaps  equally  as  intemper- 
ate, he  repelled  the  charges  of  domineering 
aggression  against  his  section  and  against 
his  party  ;  and  then,  in  the  burning,  blister- 
ing words  of  a  Cicero  denouncing  the  treason 
of  a  Cataline,  he  denounced  the  gentleman's 
blasphemous  arraignment  of  the  Constitution 
of  the  land,  and  his  fanatical  threat  of  ap- 
pealing to  the  "Higher  Law"  for  the  redress 
of  "  a  grievance  that  rankles  only  in  an  imagi- 
nation grown  morbid  in  its  impotent  hate, 


280  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

and  desperate  in  the  frenzy  of  despiteful  big- 
otry." 

The  speech  was  a  masterful  one,  and  it  was 
several  minutes,  even  after  he  had  taken  his 
seat,  before  the  applause  of  his  friends  on  the 
floor  and  the  wild  flutter  of  handkerchiefs 
and  sparkling  vivas  in  the  gallery  could  al- 
low the  Speaker's  desperate  pounding  for 
order  to  be  heard. 

"Ah!  Winston,"  cried  a  senator,  who 
had  come  across  from  the  other  chamber  to 
hear  ;  "  Ah  !  Winston,  I  must  congratulate 
you.  Your  effort  was  more  than  grand — it 
was  sublime.  I  must  thank  you  for  it." 

"Yes,"  said  another,  "I  do  not  think  that 
there  is  another  man  in  the  Capitol  who 
could  have  made  such  a  speech.  The  shade 
of  Cicero  itself  must  have  hovered  over  and 
inspired  you." 

"It  is  the  speech  of  the  session,"  said  a 
brother  member,  crowding  forward  and 
grasping  his  hand.  "Even  the  opposition 
was  thrilled,  and  the  galleries,  they  were  un- 
controllable. I  never  before  saw  such  wild 
enthusiasm.  And,  by  Jupiter !  Winston, 
just  look  !  What  a  glorious  woman  !  There 
in  the  front  row  in  the  members'  gallery. 
She  is  looking  direct  at  you  now.  That  Ma- 
donna face  !  Was  ever  such  beauty  seen 


DAVID  AXD  ABIGAIL.  281 

before  ?  A  bright,  particular  star  !  May  it 
not  be  a  happy  conjunction  ?  Venus  and 
Jupiter  !  The  Venus  of  the  gallery  and  the 
Jupiter  Tonans  of  the  floor.  Look  !  " 

Winston  looked,  more  to  divert  the  volu- 
bility of  his  friend  from  himself  than  for  any 
curiosity  he  felt  for  the  beauty. 

But  one  glance  sufficed  to  transfix  his  soul. 
His  heart  almost  cried  out  in  the  heavenly 
surprise  that  overwhelmed  it  as  he  looked  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  directly  in  the  sweet 
face  of  his  wife.  He  did  not  recognize  her 
as  his  wife,  as  Abigail  Hardie,  the  girl  whom 
he  had  married.  Had  he  done  so,  the  shock 
would  have  unmanned  him.  He  only  saw  and 
recognized  in  her  the  queen  of  all  women — 
the  one  woman  in  all  the  world  who,  despite 
the  claims  of  any  other,  was  to  be  to  him  his 
sweetest  joy  or  his  bitterest  sorrow. 

She  was  looking  at  him  ;  indeed,  from  the 
time  she  had  taken  her  seat  there,  sand- 
wiched so  closely  between  Mr.  Whiting  and 
his  wife,  to  listen  to  the  eloquence  of  which 
they  had  heard  so  much,  she  had  not  for  an 
instant  taken  her  eyes  from  his  face ;  and 
now,  when  she  caught  his  unexpected  glance, 
and  the  surprised  look  of  wondering  admira- 
tion that  filled  his  eye,  she  instinctively 
raised  her  hands,  in  the  wild  impulse  to  reach 


282  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

out  her  arms  to  him.  But  the  impulse  was 
hushed  back  almost  as  soon  as  it  was  in- 
spired, as  a  touch  and  whispered  admonition 
from  her  companion  recalled  her  to  herself, 
and,  in  blushing  confusion,  she  dropped 
her  hands  as  quickly  as  she  had  raised 
them. 

But  the  quick  eye  of  the  voluble  gentle- 
man noted  the  movement,  and  he  rallied  his 
friend : 

"Ah,  Winston  !  you  have  certainly  made 
a  mash.  That  is,  unless  you  already  know 
the  lady.  See,  she  opened  her  arms  like  a 
hen  spreading  her  wings  to  take  home  the 
little  chick.  If  her  name  be  Barkus,  I  should 
certainly  say  that  she  was  willin'.  Do  you 
know  her  ? " 

"No,  I  have  no  idea  who  she  may  be.  I 
only  know  that  such  loveliness  is  too  pure  to 
be  lightly  spoken  of.  I  had  as  soon  revile 
the  beauty  of  the  Holy  Virgin,"  he  answered 
quickly. 

"Oh,  you  mistake  me  if  you  suspect  an 
innuendo  in  my  remarks  or  in  my  thoughts. 
I  recognized  her  surprising  loveliness,  and  I 
can  stand  uncovered  in  its  presence,  but  for 
all  that  I  love  to  look  upon  her.  It  is  like 
looking  at  a  beautiful  picture.  I  should  like 
to  find  out  who  she  is  or  where  she  is  from. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  283 

There  is  no  sacrilege  in  that,  is  there  ? "  a 
little  touchily. 

"  Oh,  no  !  nor  did  I  intend  my  remark  as 
a  reproof.  I  was  only  trying  to  voice  my 
own  feelings.  The  impression  she  has  made 
upon  me  is  so  strangely  different  from  any- 
thing that  has  ever  touched  me  before.  But 
let  us  go  out.  I  am  completely  exhausted. 
There  is  nothing  more  to  be  done  to-day." 

"Yes,  only  I  have  a  letter  or  two  to 
frank.  I  will  meet  you  in  the  corridor.  By 
the  way,  do  you  g6  to  the  opera  to-night  ? 
It  is  said  to  be  very  good." 

"Yes,  I  have  an  engagement  with  Miss 
Stanley  ; "  and  with  another  glance  at  the 
gallery  he  adjusted  his  papers  and  left  the 
hall. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
MISS  M'FLIMSY  TELLS  AN  OPEN  SECRET. 

IT  was  a  brilliant  opera,  and  a  brilliant 
audience  assembled  to  listen.  The  beauty 
and  fashion  of  the  proud  Capitol  were  out  in 
butterfly  array,  and  the  proudest  capital  in 
Europe  might  well  have  been  proud  of  the 
brilliancy  of  this. 


284  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

David  Winston  was  not  a  fashionable 
man,  in  the  social  acceptation  of  the  word. 
Sympathetic  and  genial  in  his  nature,  he  was 
a  favorite  at  his  club ;  but  in  the  salon  he 
was  hardly  known.  Society  had  seen  but 
little  of  him,  and  it  was  but  recently  that  it 
had  seen  even  that  little. 

To  Miss  Stanley,  the  senator's  pretty  and 
dashing  daughter,  was  accredited  the  honor 
of  bringing  out  this  untamed  lion  of  the 
House,  and  to  her  busy  rumor  had  accred- 
ited the  still  happier  distinction  of  putting 
other  than  social  leading  strings  upon  him. 

Their  appearance  together  this  evening, 
she  so  radiant  in  smiles  and  beauty,  and  he 
so  fresh  from  the  scene  of  his  acknowledged 
triumph,  gave  piquancy  to  the  gossip  as  well 
as  interest  to  the  couple,  and  of  course  they 
were  the  observed  of  all  observers. 

Quite  by  chance  (Query  :  Is  there  such  a 
thing  as  chance  ?),  and  with  not  the  remotest 
idea  of  seeing  "the  lady  and  the  lion," 
Whiting  and  his  party,  now  reduced  by  the 
marriage  of  Miss  Whiting  to  the  Count 
Pacetti,  to  three,  had  taken  seats  at  the  opera, 
and  were  expecting  a  rare  musical  treat, 
when  the  entrance  of  the  distinguished 
couple  created  a  sensible  flutter  in  the 
audience. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  285 

"That  is  the  Honorable  Mr.  "Winston,  the 
wonderful  young  orator,"  said  a  lady,  who 
was  evidently  on  familiar  terms  with  all  the 
social  celebrities  of  the  Capitol,  explaining 
to  her  escort,  a  rural  cousin  from  the  Blue- 
grass  regions,  who  had  ventured  up  to 
the  city  to  see  the  lions.  "  And  that  lady 
with  him  is  Miss  Stanley  ;  the  rich  daughter 
of  Senator  Stanley.  They  are  sweethearts, 
and  are  to  be  married,  you  know,  as  soon  as 
Congress  adjourns.  They  would  have  been 
married  before  now  only  he  has  just  got  his 
divorce-  - 

"  His  divorce  ?  Does  a  man  have  to  have 
a  divorce  to  get  married  here  ?  "  innocently 
asked  the  rustic  cousin. 

"Yes  !  married  ones  do.  You  see  he  was 
already  married  and  had  some  trouble  with 
his  wife,  a  poor  giddy  creature,  whom  it  is 
said  he  married  for  her  money,  and  who  paid 
him  off  by  running  away  with  a  scamp  from 
Charleston  two  days  after  the  wedding,  and 
he  has  not  seen  her  since.  Cousin  Matilda 
happened  to  hear  all  about  it  when  she  was 
down  South  and  she  told  me.  However,  it 
is  quite  well  understood  here,  and  every 
body  has  been  very  sorry  for  the  poor  fellow, 
and  all  feel  very  glad  now  of  his  good 
fortune  in  winning  Miss  Stanley.  She  is 


286  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


immensely  rich  too,  and  oh  !  my  !  isn't  she 
pretty  !  And  what  a  distingue  couple  they 
make.  He  is  so  handsome  too.  Everybody 
in  the  house  is  looking  at  them  and  admir- 
ing. She  ought  to  be  very  proud,  and  I 
am  sure  she  is.  I  almost  wish  it  was 
me." 

"  Well !  I  don't  so  very  well  know.  I  be- 
lieve I  had  rather  it  was  not  me.  I  don't  think 
that  if  I  was  a  girl  I  should  care  to  pick 
up  a  second-hand  fellow  like  him.  A  sure- 
enough  widower,  is  bad  enough,  but  when 
it  comes  to  a  grass  widower  I  should  beg 
to  be  excused  ;  but  they  are  a  good-looking 
team,  sure  enough.  She's  as  pretty  as  a 
picture,  and  I  had  much  rather  have  her 
than  to  have  him." 

"  What  is  it,  Grace  ?  Are  you  ill  ? "  asked 
Mrs.  Whiting  in  alarm,  as  she  noticed  the 
sudden  gasp  for  breath  and  the  paleness 
that  overspread  the  face  of  her  companion. 

"  Oh  !  It  is  the  odor  of  these  jessamines. 
I  must  throw  them  away.  There,  I  feel 
better  already,"  as  she  dropped  the  innocent 
flowers  and  instinctively  drew  herself 
further  away  from  the  unconscious  (and 
unconscionable)  gossip,  who  had  been  split- 
ting her  ears  with  her  sharp  tongue.  She 
had  heard  every  word  of  the  cruel  scandal, 


It  AVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  287 

and  had  to  sit  dumb,  without  the  poor  priv- 
ilege of  screaming  while  the  iron  was 
entering  her  soul.  She  had  not  followed  the 
direction  of  the  curious  eyes,  and  had  not 
noticed  the  entrance  of  the  couple,  and  now 
she  was  afraid  to  trust  herself  to  look,  but 
had  to  sit  with  eyes  drooped  in  her  lap,  as 
if  all  that  glitter  and  glare  of  beauty  was 
too  dazzling  for  her  sight. 

The  opera  had  no  charm,  no  interest,  for 
her.  She  did  not  even  hear  it,  and  it  was 
only  when  the  curtain  had  fallen  on  the 
first  act  that  she  realized  from  the  succeed- 
ing hush  that  it  had  ever  commenced. 

"  There, "  spoke  up  her  gossipy  neighbor 
again,  as  the  hush  in  the  music  gave  voice 
to  her  tongue,  "  there  that  is  the  Honorable 
Mr.  Fenton,  of  Boomtown,  who  is  talking  to 
Winston  now.  And  look  ;  they  are  looking 
this  way  now.  I  wonder  if  it  is  me  they  are 
looking  at.  0  !  mercy  !  Miss  Stanley  is 
adjusting  her  glass  !  and  now  she  is  level- 
ing it  directly  at  me.  Is  it  some  one  behind 
us  or  is  it  me  !  Can  you  see  who  is  behind 
us  ?  And  now  the  gentlemen  are  both 
looking  !  See  how  they  stare  !  I  do  wonder 
if  it  is  me,  anyhow  I  intend  to  shoot 
back,"  and  adjusting  her  glasses,  the  lady 
defiantly  returned  the  fire  from  the  battery 


288  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

of  glasses  leveled  from  the  opposite  circle, 
while  poor  Grace  sat  still  as  death  and 
almost  as  cold. 

1  'Yes,  it's  me.  I  caught  Miss  Stanley's 
very  eye  and  made  her  drop  it.  I  wonder 
what  it  is  they  are  saying  about  me  ?  I 
shall  bone  Mr.  Fenton  about  it  to-morrow. 
I've  a  great  mind  to  shake  my  finger  at  him 
now." 

"  I'll  bet  a  thrip  against  a  ginger-cake  that 
it's  something  complimentary.  See  how 
the  young  lady  arches  her  brows  and  turns 
up  her  nose,  as  much  as  to  say  'what 
shocking  taste,'  "  said  the  rural  escort,  with 
more  justice,  perhaps  than  he  thought. 

For  this  is  what  the  gentlemen  were 
saying : 

(FENTON  : — as  he  crossed  over  and  joined 
his  friends)  Ah  !  Winston  !  yonder  is  the 
star  of  the  Gallery  again. 

WINSTON  (with  alert  interest)  : — Where? 

FENTON  : —  To  the  left,  fourth  seat  on 
seventh  row,  next  to  Miss  McFlims3T. 

WINSTON  :  — Ah  !  lovely  enough  for  any 
star  ;  but  this  is  hardly  the  same.  She  was 
a  Madonna  !  this  is  Venus  herself. 

FENTON  :  — So  I  thought,  until  I  caught 
her  vis-a-vis,  and  then  I  found  it  the 
same.  Now  !  she  slightly  turns  this  way  I 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  289 

did  you  ever  see  such  a  remarkable  and  per- 
plexing beauty  ? 

WINSTON  : — Wonderful !  wonderful  !  Miss 
Stanley,  do  you  wish  to  see  a  living,  breath- 
ing, impersonation  of  Venus  ? 

Miss  Stanley  adjusts  her  glass  and  levels 
it  across  the  parquette.  Her  aim  strikes 
Miss  McFlimsy  squarely  between  the  eyes. 

FENTON  : — Is  she  not  divine  ? 

Miss  STANLEY  : — Perhaps  so  !  my  glasses 
are  not  always  reliable. 

FENTON  : — There  !  she  is  looking  towards 
you.  You  can  catch  a  front  view  of  her, 
and  now  you  have  Venus  no  longer,  but  the 
pathetic  loveliness  of  Murillo's  Madonna. 

Then  it  was  that  Miss  Stanley's  eyebrows 
arched  and  her  pretty  nose  curled,  as  a  dis- 
criminating nose  surely  had  the  right  to  curl 
in  piquant  disgust  at  such  a  preposterous 
optical  illusion. 

WINSTON  (starting  up  from  a  strangely 
puzzling  wonder,  which  had  carried  him 
away  across  the  sea)  :  — Fenton,  can  you 
possibly  find  out  for  me  who  she  is  ? 

FENTON  : — Yes,  I  think  so.  I  saw  Milnes 
talking  with  the  gentleman  with  her,  to-day, 
and  they  appeared  to  be  old  friends.  They 
are  from  Charleston — I  overheard  enough 
for  that.  They  are  stopping  at  the  National. 


290  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

WINSTON  : — At  the  National !  Are  you 
sure  ? 

FENTON  : — Yes  !  quite  sure.  Milnes  called 
there  to  see  them. 

WINSTON  : — Then  I  am  in  luck. 

Miss  Stanley's  nose  had  to  take  another 
little  tilt,  but  it  was  such  a  saucy  and  withal 
such  a  pretty  tilt  that  Fenton  smiled  to  see  it. 

FENTON  : — "  I  do  not  know  so  much  about 
that.  The  lady  is  his  wife." 

WINSTON,  (starting  aghast  at  the  idea)  : — 
His  wife  ?  Oh,  no  ! 

FENTON  : — Yes,  but  she  is.  I  heard  him 
tell  Milnes  that  his  wife  was  with  him,  and  I 
observed  them  sitting  together  to-day  in  the 
gallery,  and  I  saw  him  grasp  her  arm  and 
jerk  it  down,  when  she  spread  them  out  to 
hover  you.  I  am  sure  they  are  married  or 
he  would  be  more  gallant  in  his  attentions, 
to  her.  He  didn't  fan  her  one  time  to-day, 
warm  as  it  was  ;  and  to-night,  see  he  is 
twice  as  attentive  to  the  lady  with  her. 
Yes,  you  may  rest  assured  that  she  is  his 
wife.  But,  say  !  is  it  quite  understood  that 
we  are  to  go  to  Mount  Vernon  to-morrow— 
eh,  Miss  Stanley  ? " 

Miss  STANLEY  : — Yes ;  that  is  the  pro- 
gramme. 

WINSTON  :  —  Certainly ;    there    will    be 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  291 

nothing  in  the  House  to-morrow.  Bangem 
and  Woolem  will  consume  the  day  in  batter- 
ing the  Queen's  English  over  each  other's 
heads.  And,  besides,  I  am  anxious  to  show 
Miss  Stanley  Lady  Washington's  roses. 

Miss  STANLEY  :  —  Is  it  lawful  to  pluck 
one  ?  Else  you  should  not  lead  me  into 
temptation. 

FENTON  : — Give  Winston  a  leaf  and  he 
will  defend  the  trespass. 

WINSTON  : — I  shall  be  happy  to  share  the 
consequences,  in  any  event. 

And,  with  this  gallant  speech  to  placate 
the  uptilted  nose,  a  satisfied  smile,  stretching 
the  pretty  mouth,  drew  it  down  again. 

To-morrow  would  be  the  twenty-fourth, 
St.  John's  day,  and  was  to  be  celebrated  by 
the  Masonic  fraternity  by  a  steamboat  excur- 
sion down  the  river  and  picnic  at  Mount 
Vernon,  the  home  of  that  eminent  patron  of 
the  craft.  Both  these  gentlemen  were  en- 
thusiastic members  of  the  fraternity,  and 
both  were  anxious  for  a  little  whiff  of  fresh 
country  air. 

FENTON  : — Then  we  all  go.  I  will  see  to 
the  tickets.  The  boat  leaves  at  ten,  sharp. 
I  will  call  for  you,  Miss  Stanley.  Au  re- 
voir^  hurrying  back  to  his  seat  as  the  bell 
rang. 


292  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

Ting-a-ling,  ting-a-ling  went  the  bell ;  the 
orchestra  blared,  up  rose  the  curtain,  and 
Fra  Diavolo  commenced  his  mischievous 
work  again,  cutting  throats  and  turning 
pretty  heads. 

But  neither  the  devilish  exploits  of  Fra 
Diavolo,  nor  the  charming  music,  nor  even 
the  pretty,  plump,  round  arms  of  the  prima 
donna  (so  fascinating  to  the  robbers  hid  in 
the  closet),  as  she  disrobed  for  her  couch, 
could  further  interest  Winston.  He  had  no 
further  thought  for  clever  acting,  no  ear  for 
music  nor  eye  for  surreptitious  charms,  but 
sat  ungallantly  stolid  and  neglectful  even  of 
the  beauty  so  close  to  his  side,  casting  stolen 
glances  of  reverential  admiration  across  the 
parquette  at  that  lovely  face,  which  had  so 
mysteriously  hypnotized  his  every  thought. 

Miss  Stanley  noticed  the  undutiful  aberra- 
tion, but  reassuring  herself,  by  another  in- 
spection through  her  glass,  of  the  harmless 
face  of  Miss  McFlimsy,  she  only  laughed  at 
it  as  a  wayward  fancy,  for  which  he  would 
be  only  too  glad  to  atone  to-morrow. 

After  a  while — it  seemed  an  interminable 
age  to  Grace — the  curtain  fell,  and,  through 
the  rush  and  jam  of  the  exit,  they  made 
their  way  out  into  the  glad,  free  night  again. 

"Let    us  walk,"    she    said,   as  Whiting 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  293 

paused  for  a  carriage.     "  I  think  the  walk  in 
the  air  will  do  me  good. " 

"Yes  ;  we  will  walk.  'Tis  but  a  little  way 
up  the  avenue." 

"Ah,  Whiting,  I  have  been  looking  for 
you  all  the  evening,"  said  the  Hon.  Porcher 
Milnes,  as  he  met  the  returning  party  in  the 
hotel  corridor. 

"Have  you?  Well,  I  am  glad  to  meet 
you.  And  here,  I  must  introduce  you  to  my 
wife.  Mr.  Milnes,  Mrs.  Whiting,"  present- 
ing, in  a  kind  of  husbandly  complacency,  his 
rosy-cheeked  wife. 

"lam  happy  to  meet  Mrs.  Whiting," 
accepting  with  a  courtly  grace  the  lady's 
friendly  hand. 

"And  this  is  our  very  dear  friend,  Mrs. 
Winston,"  continued  Whiting,  presenting  the 
young  lady. 

"Ah,  this  is  an  additional  pleasure,"  bow- 
ing and  then  addressing  Mrs.  Whiting,  as 
they  entered  the  parlor.  "You  have  been 
to  the  opera  ?  I  hope  you  had  a  pleasant 
evening  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  was  really  fine — the  opera  I 
mean.  The  music  was  charming  and  the 
audience  very  brilliant.  I  spent  a  most  enjoy- 
able evening,"  answered  the  lady. 


294  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"And  you.  Mrs.  Winston,  I  hope  that  the 
taste  you  have  had  of  foreign  music  will 
not  destroy  your  relish  for  our  more  demo- 
cratic opera,"  turning  to  the  younger  lady 
and  trying  to  be  polite  without  any  definite 
idea  of  what  he  was  meaning  to  say. 

"Oh,  no,  sir;  my  democratic  tastes  are  too 
deeply  ingrained  for  a  foreign  flavor  to 
affect.  But,  sir,  there  was  nothing  American 
about  the  opera  this  evening.  Indeed,  sir, 
before  we  hedge  ourselves  too  exclusively  in 
our  democratic  tastes,  we  should  remember 
that  we  have  nothing  to  feed  them  on.  I 
do  not  think,  sir,  that  we  have  such  a  thing 
as  an  American  opera." 

"Oh,  is  that  so?  Well,  well!  I  hadn't 
thought  of  that.  But  we've  got  the  min- 
strels and  that,  to  my  taste,  is  much  better. 
.The  Chrysties  are  inimitable.  Eh,  what  say 
you  ? " 

"  I  am  hardly  so  democratic.  But  some 
of  their  songs  are  really  charming,"  she 
answered. 

"  That  they  are.  But  what  was  the  play 
to-night?" 

' '  Oh,  sir,  I  really  do  not  remember,  but — 
but  I — I  believe  it  was  Faust,"  trying  in 
vain  to  recall  the  opera. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  Guttenberg,  the  old  printer, 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  295 

a  very  remarkable  man.  Well,  I  am  glad 
that  you  liked  it,  and  that  you  enjoyed  the 
evening.  We  wish  all  our  friends  to  enjoy 
their  visits  to  the  city.  We  want  them  to 
think  well  of  the  capitol.  And,  Mrs.  Whit- 
ing, I  trust  that  you  will  pardon  me  for 
the  presumption,  but  I  have  ventured  to  ar- 
range a  little  entertainment  for  to-morrow, 
which  I  am  sure  you  will  enjoy,  eh,  Whit- 
ing?" 

"To-morrow?  We  expect  to  leave  for 
Eichmond  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  had,  but  an  accident  to 
the  railroad,  a  bridge  out  of  line,  or  some- 
thing of  the  sort,  will  prevent  a  train  to- 
morrow and  knocks  your  programme  into  a 
cocked  hat.  I  learned  it  at  the  ticket-office 
this  evening,  and  so  felt  at  liberty  to  take 
you  in  hand.  And  to  malje  the  delay  as 
pleasant  to  your  ladies  as  possible,  I  have 
secured  tickets  to  an  excursion  to-morrow  to 
Mt.  Vernon.  We  will  be  sure  of  a  pleasant 
time  ;  the  boat  is  large  and  commodious,  the 
music  will  be  fine,  the  scenery  charming  and 
there  will  not  be  an  overcrowd.  It  is  a 
Masonic  affair,  and  the  company  will  be 
select.  Mrs.  Milnes  is  going,  anl  she  begs 
me  particularly  to  secure  you  if  possible. 
She  called  herself  to  make  your  acquaint- 


296  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

ance  and  to  ask  you  to  join  us,  but  you 
were  out.  Now,  will  you  go  ?  " 

"If  Grace — Mrs.  Winston — will  go  I 
should  be  charmed  with  the  honor." 

"Then,  Miss  Winston,  I  appeal  to  you." 

"You  are  very  kind,  sir,  and  I  accept  your 
kindness.  I  have  long  wished  to  visit 
Mount  Vernon." 

"lam  sure  you  will  enjoy  it;  for,  aside 
from  the  enjoyment  of  the  excursion,  the 
pleasurable  associations  of  the  place  will 
make  it  a  day  long  to  be  remembered. 
But  it  is  not  too  late,"  consulting  his 
watch,  "it  is  only  eleven-thirty,  for  a 
petite  souper;  one  needs  something  after 
the  fatigue  of  the  theater.  May  I  order 
one  ? " 

"Not  for  me,  please,"  said  Grace,  who 
longed  for  nothing  in  the  world  so  much  as 
she  longed  for  the  rest  and  solitude  of  her 
own  room. 

"  Nor  for  me, — thanks.  You  must  know, 
Mr.  Milnes,  that  we  are  almost  rustic  in  our 
habits,  and  it  will  not  do  for  us  to  plunge 
too  deeply  at  once  into  fashionable  dissipa- 
tion. A  good  sleep,  now,  will  be  the  best 
refreshment  we  could  take, "  smilingly  supple- 
mented Mrs.  Whiting. 

"Ah,    yes,    there  will  be,  less  headache 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


about  it  in  the  morning.  And  as  we  have 
to  be  up  early  to  catch  the  boat,  I  will,  with 
}7our  kind  permission,  wish  you  pleasant 
dreams  and  a  very  good-night." 

"  Good-night,  sir,  we  shall  be  ready,"  and 
with  friendly  nods  the  ladies  withdrew. 

"Winston — Winston,"  murmured  the 
gentleman  to  himself,  as  he  went  out  on  his 
way  home.  "I  wonder  who  she  is  !  A 
splendid  woman,  certainly,  regal  in  her 
beauty  as  well  as  manner.  I  do  not  think  I 
ever  saw  a  lovelier." 

The  struggle  that  night  in.  the  mind  of 
David  Winston  was  the  bitterest  of  his 
life.  A  struggle  between  loyalty  to  the 
wife  he  had  discarded  and  the  subtle, 
mysterious  and  undefinable  infatuation 
that  possessed  his  soul  for  this  strange  wo- 
man who  had  so  suddenly  come  between 
them. 

Through  all  these  weary  days  of  hopeless, 
purposeless  waiting  he  had  been  true  to  the 
absent  one,  in  thought  and  in  deed,  not  even 
in  vagrant  fancy  had  his  thoughts  ever 
turned  from  her  for  one  idle  moment,  but 
in  its  most  chaste  and  immaculate  sense  had 
his  heart  remained  steadfastly  faithful  and 
true.  Notwithstanding  the  idle  gossip  to 
which  he  was<  disdainfully  indifferent,  the 


298  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

idea  of  marrying  any  other  woman  had 
never  entered  his  mind.  He  could  have 
released  her  from  all  allegiance  and  from  all 
duty  to  himself — he  could  claim  nothing  from 
her — but  in  his  own  soul  he  recognized  no 
other  mistress  but  her.  Had  he  even 
thought  it  best  for  her  happiness  that  she 
should  marry  some  one  else,  he  could  have 
ground  his  heart  to  powder,  dry  as  summer 
dust,  and  given  his  consent,  but  as  for  him- 
self, until  death  itself  came  between  them, 
there  could  be  no  dissolution  of  the  ties  that 
bound  him  to  her.  But  now,  like  a  meteor- 
flash  a  thwart  the  inky  darkness  of  a  mid- 
night sky,  this  other  came,  this  beautiful 
one,  this  goddess  stepping  from  the  clouds 
and  compelling  his  adoration.  The  sense  of 
his  unfaith  to  his  wife  was  revolting  to  every 
sense  of  his  manhood,  and  he  cursed  himself 
for  his  baseness.  He  tried  to  reason  with 
himself,  in  his  desperate  effort  to  arrest  his 
perfidy,  but  the  power  of  ratiocination  was 
gone.  In  an  agony  of  despairing  shame  he 
would  clutch  his  breast,  as  if  to  pluck  from 
his  heart  the  beautiful  image  that  had  so 
incontinently  possessed  it,  but  he  could  only 
torture  the  quivering  flesh,  that  beautiful 
image  had,  with  a  kodak  flash,  been  photo- 
graphed in  indelible  lines  in  its  most  secret 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  299 

and  sacred  depths.  He  would  for  a  moment 
think  sadly  of  her,  the  sweet  wife,  who  had 
really  made  him  what  he  was,  only  to  turn, 
the  next,  with  something  nearly  akin  to 
hate  in  his  heart  against  her,  to  clasp  and 
hug  to  his  soul  the  beautiful  vision  that  had 
so  dazzled  his  senses. 

For  more  than  an  hour  he  sat  in  the  soli- 
tude of  his  room,  pondered  the  matter  over 
and  over  again,  commencing  by  cursing 
himself  for  a  villain  and  ended  by  blessing 
the  loveliness  that  was  leading  him  astray. 
At  last  to  put  an  end  to  the  distracting 
struggle,  he  started  up. 

"Ah,"  he  cried,  "this  must  end  it ;  I  am 
too  vile  even  to  think  of  her  ever  again. 
My  love,  could  I  recall  it  again,  would  be 
an  insult  to  her  purity,  and  I  shall  end  it 
now  and  forever,"  and  then  turning  to  his 
desk  he  wrote  : 


"  Miss  HAKDIE  : — There  is  a  point  in  the  descent  to  per- 
dition at  which  decency  halts.  I  have  passed  that  point, 
and  am  now  beyond  the  pale  of  womanly  sympathy.  The 
name  I  imposed  upon  you  is  no  longer  worthy  your  purity, 
and  I  write  to  notify  you  that  I  shall  take  immediate  steps 
to  absolve  you  from  it.  If  you  can  trust  me  so  far,  I  shall 
see  that  your  interest,  in  all  particulars,  are  protected,  and 
that  with  the  decree  that  divorces  your  life  from  such  a 
wretch,  you  will  be  reinvested  with  all  your  maiden  rights, 
including  the  name  your  worthy  father  made  so  honorable. 


300  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

Should  it  embarrass  you  to  write,  you  need  not  do  so,  as  I 
shall  accept  your  silence  as  an  evidence  of  your  consents 
and  will  proceed  accordingly. 

44  With  the  sincerest  respect  I  am 

"  Your  unworthy  friend, 

''  DAVID  ROE  WINSTON." 

Having  finished  he  hurried  down  to  the 
hotel  office  and  mailed  it,  and  returning  to 
his  room,  he  went  to  bed  only  to  commence 
the  struggle  again,  keeping  it  up  until  ex- 
hausted nature  could  stand  no  more,  and 
he  dropped  to  sleep.  And  then  came, 

"  Swift-footed  visions,  without  order  or  number," 

through  which  floated  in  a  halo  of  glory 
the  angelic  figure,  form  and  face  of  the 
temptress,  wooing  his  sleeping  senses  with 
the  pathetic  sweetness  of  the  Madonna,  and 
enchanting  his  soul  with  the  piquant  beauty 
of  Venus. 

Was  it  sinful,  such  an  ecstatic  dream  ? 
Surely  it  could  not  be  ;  and  yet  he  had  to 
despise  himself  the  next  morning  for  recall- 
ing with  such  ecstatic  delight,  the  memory 
of  the  kisses  he  had  so  rapturously  im- 
printed upon  the  sweet,  sweet  mouth,  as  he 
held  the  beatified  vision  in  his  dreaming 
arms. 

And  poor  Grace,  she  had  a  struggle  too, 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  301 

not  .so  remorseful,  but  none  the  less  painful. 
There  were  no  self-reproaches,  mingled  with 
her  silent  sobs.  It  was  only  over  her 
wounded,  bleeding,  dying  love  she  was  so 
piteously  moaning,  only  for  the  crumbling 
of  her  lordly  idol  she  was  grieving.  She 
had  clung  to  that  love,  hopeless  as  it  was, 
as  long  as  she  could  ;  she  had  worshiped  that 
idol,  with  a  woman's  constant  adoration, 
but  now  they  must  both  be  put  away,  that 
sweet  love  and  that  god-like  image.  He 
was  no  longer  hers ;  he  was  soon  to  be  the 
lord  of  another,  and  it  would  be  a  sin  to  love 
him.  Had  he  remained  single  all  his  life 
she  would  have  continued  to  love  him, 
though  the  Arctic  seas  might  have  rolled 
between  them,  but  now  he  was  to  marry 
another  and  she  must  give  up  the  love  that 
had  been  all  along  such  a  silent  joy  to  her  life. 

But,  as  we  have  seen  before,  Abigail  Har- 
die  was  a  brave  woman,  and,  with  a  prayer 
for  strength,  she  arose  to  put  the  weakness 
away  ;  and  like  he,  the  faithless  spouse,  had 
done,  she  turned  to  her  desk,  late  as  it  was, 
and  wrote  a  long  letter,  too  long  to  give 
here,  but  of  which  she  told  her  friend,  the 
next  morning.  And  this  is  what  she  told  : 

"I  thought  much  last  night,  Alice,  of 
what  would  be  best  for  me  to  do,  and  I  have 


302  DA  VID  A ND  ABIGA I L. 

quite  decided.  Hush,  let  me  tell  you.  "Vyhat 
I  heard  last  night  has  convinced  me  of  the 
folly  of  longer  struggling  with  a  prepos- 
terous hope.  He  is  to  marry  the  beautiful 
lady  we  saw  him  with.  He  is  already 
divorced,  and  it  is  sinful  in  me  to  ever  think 
of  him  as  my  own  again.  I  must  give  my 
duty  to  some  one  else,  and  perhaps  with 
that  I  may  be  able  to  give  my  love.  I  gave 
him  up  last  night.  How  much  it  cost  me  no 
one  can  ever  know  ;  but  to  make  the  sacrifice 
complete,  to  put  an  end,  at  once  and  for- 
ever, to  my  wavering  doubts,  and  fears 
and  hopes,  I  have  written  to  Lord  Kniglit- 
leigh,  explaining  everything,  and  telling 
him  that  if  he  thinks  me  worth  the  voyage 
across  the  Atlantic,  to  come  and  I  will 
marry  him.  This  I  will  do  to  save  me  from 
myself.  I  will  make  him  a  true  and  faith- 
ful wife,  and  in  doing  that  I  will,  perforce, 
learn  to  forget  that  I  was  ever,  even  in 
thought,  the  wife  of  another." 

"Ah,  darling,  you  have  decided  well, 
wisely  and  well.  Sir  Robert  is  in  every  re- 
spect an  admirable  gentleman,  and  I  am 
sure  that  he  loves  the  very  ground  you  walk 
upon.  But  come,  hurry  up  and  dress  ;  we 
have  barely  time  for  breakfast,  before  it  will 
be  time  to  go." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  303 

' '  Yes,  you  run  on,  and  I  will  soon  be 
ready." 

But  when  left  alone  to  herself,  and  she 
turned  to  seal  and  stamp  the  letter  for  the 
post,  before  going,  there  came  over  her  soul 
such  a  rush  of  feeling,  pity,  sorrow,  doubt, 
shame  and  remorse,  that  she  threw  the 
treacherous  missive  aside  in  horror,  and 
sinking  on  her  knees  and  burying  her  face 
in  her  hands  she  sobbed  : 

"No,  no,  I  cannot,  oh,  I  cannot !  It  was 
mine  to  love  him  first.  In  the  sight  of  God 
I  am  his  wife  still,  and  I  shall  love  him  on 
until  death  do  us  part.  Oh  !  how  wicked, 
almost  vile  it  was  in  me  to  waver  for  a 
moment  in  my  duty  !  Oh,  God  forgive  me  ! 
My  love,  my  love!  No  divorce,  no  decree 
of  man,  can  absolve  me  from  the  vows  I 
took  in  the  presence  of  the  most  high  God. 
No,  no,  whatever  may  betide  I  shall  remain 
true  to  my  love,  and  true  to  myself  because 
true  to  my  love." 


304  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

DOWN     THE     RIVER. 

THE  weather  that  morning  was  propi- 
tious. Had  St.  John  himself  had  the  tem- 
pering of  the  air,  or  the  softening  of  the 
sunlight,  he  could  not  have  made  it  more 
balmy,  soft  and  charming  than  it  was.  It 
was  a  revivifying  inhalation  of  health,  of 
strength,  and  of  gladness  to  breathe  it.  Even 
the  pain  that  had  cut  so  deep  in  her  heart, 
and  which  had  kept  her  awake  the  livelong 
night,  felt  its  soothing  effects,  and  in  the 
universal  gladness  poor  Grace  found  surcease 
of  misery,  and  as  the  steamer  glided  out 
into  the  broad  river,  with  its  banners  wav- 
ing, its  music  floating,  and  its  hundred  trills 
of  human  merriment  filling  the  air,  the 
wounded  look  that  had  so  puzzled  and  dis- 
tressed Whiting  all  the  morning,  went  out 
from  her  eye  and  something  of  the  old-time 
brightness  came  back  again. 

The  pleasant  run  down  the  river  had 
nearly  been  made,  and  another  turn  in  the 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  305 

winding  stream  would  bring  them  in  sight 
of  the  Mecca  of  all  the  "  truly  loyal,"  when 
Fenton,  in  a  little  flutter  of  importance 
accosted  his  friend  : 

"  Ah  !  Winston,  our  gallery  star  is  still 
ascendant,  and  shines  upon  us  again  to-day. 
Ah,  what  a  lucky  star  !  " 

' '  How  ?    Where  ? "  quickly  asked  Winston. 

"I  mean  the  double  beauty,  double  and 
ubiquitous,  the  Siamese  twins,  if  I  may  be  so 
profane,  of  womanly  beatitude  ;  the  Madonna 
and  Venus,  both  in  one.  There  she  is,  across 
to  the  right,  leaning  against  the  stanchion. 
Milnes  is  talking  to  her,  and  now  I  can  see 
him  and  find  out  who  she  is.  But,  there  ! 
don't  you  see  that  Gorgon  of  a  husband 
standing  jealous  guard  over  her  ?  Miss 
Stanley,  don't  you  think  her  beautiful  ? " 

Miss  Stanley  looked,  a  little  indifferently, 
as  well  as  ungraciously.  She  cared  nothing 
for  the  wonderful  beauty,  but  she  did  not 
quite  relish  the  gentleman's  irreverent  inter- 
ruption. 

"  Oh  !  But  this  is  not  the  same  lady  we 
saw  last  evening,"  she  cried  as  a  glance 
revealed  a  loveliness  she  instinctively  had 
to  acknowledge. 

"Yes,  it  is  the  self -same  ;  only  the  more 

lovely  each  succeeding  time  one  sees  her. 
20 


306  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

She  looks  even  better  by  sunlight  than  she 
did  by  gas,  and  it  takes  a  miraculous  beauty 
to  do  that.  Isn't  she  beautiful,  even  though 
she  had  the  poor  taste  to  throw  herself  away 
upon  such  an  old  stick-in-the-mud  as  that  ( '' 

"  Yes  ;  she  is  beautiful.  She  is  more  than 
that,  she  is  transcendentally  lovely.  I  should 
like  to  know  her.  But  I  must  beg  your  par- 
don, I  was  looking  at  altogether  a  different 
person  last  night.  I  must  apologize  for  the 
mistake,  and  the  violence  I  did  your  good 
taste,"  she  said  brightly,  turning  to  Winston. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  was  quite  sure  that  you 
did  not  see  aright.  One  could  not  well  look 
in  that  face  without  acknowledging  its 
loveliness.  It  strangely  touched  me  when  I 
first  saw  it,  and  the  puzzle  has  not  yet  quite 
left  me.  I  am  glad,  though,  that  she  is 
married,"  he  added  reflectively,  more  to  him- 
self than  to  his  companion. 

"  Yes,  such  loveliness  should  have  a  home 
to  adorn,"  she  answered  demurely. 

"  Only  she  should  not  have  wasted  it  on 
such  a  clown  as  that.-  I  almost  hate  him," 
savagely  put  in  Fenton.  "  I  am  sure  that 
he  thinks  more  of  his  cotton  bags  than  he 
does  of  her.  And  see  !  he  has  been  flirting 
with  that  other  one  all  the  way.  I  caught 
him  squeezing  her  hand  just  now." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  307 

"But  may  be  she  is  his  wife,  and  not  the 
other,  this  Siamese  twins  of  yours. " 

"And  they  still  in  the  honeymoon?  Not 
likely.  Her  bonnet  is  too  badly  battered 
for  that.  And  besides,  who  ever  caught  a 
husband  squeezing  his  wife's  hand  on  the 
sly?" 

"  But,  Mr.  Fenton,  I  should  like  to  know 
her.  Can  you  manage  to  get  Mr.  Milnes  to 
introduce  us  ? "  insisted  Miss  Stanley,  curious 
to  unearth  the  mystery. 

"Oh,  yes,  certainly.  I  will  see  him,  "and 
off  he  hurried. 

"Milnes,"  he  said  a  moment  after,  touch- 
ing that  gentleman  on  the  shoulder,  as  a 
remark  from  Mrs.  Milnes  called  the  young 
lady's  attention  away,  "Milnes,  we  are  all 
envying  you  your  good  luck,  and  are  on  our 
heads  to  know  who  she  is.  Even  the  exclusive 
Miss  Stanley  is  dying  to  know  her,  and  to  take 
her  under  her  patronizing  wing.  Now,  don't 
be  selfish,  and  give  us  all  a  chance." 

"  Certainly,  if  the  young  lady  will  permit  ; 
only  Miss  Stanley  will  have  to  spread  her 
wings  to  their  utmost  stretch  to  cover  the 
loveliness  that  can  rival  her  own.  I  will  ask 
her." 

"Do,  if  you  please.  But  first  let  me  ask 
you,  is  she  married  ? " 


308  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"No,  but  she  had  better  be.  She  is 
engaged.  Yes  ;  I  had  it  just  now  from  my 
wife,  who  got  it  from  Mrs.  Whiting,  that 
she  is  to  be  married  to  an  English  nobleman  ; 
a  Sir  Robert,  or  Roger"  Somebody,  just  as 
soon  as  he  comes  over,  and  he  is  on  his  way 
now.  I  tell  you  this  to  put  you  on  your 
guard." 

"Thanks!  But  one  could  afford  to  get 
scorched  by  such  a  glorious  flame." 

"Then,  come  on.  Miss  Winston," — he 
could  not  get  it  out  of  his  head  that  one  so 
bright  and  fresh  and  rosy  as  she,  could  be 
anything  else  than  miss,  "  Miss  Winston, 
a  very  sweet  lady  friend  of  mine  asks  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  you.  May  I  introduce 
her  ? " 

"Oh!  yes.  I  shall  be  glad  to  know  any 
of  your  friends." 

' '  Thanks  !  then  to  begin  I  will  introduce 
my  very  dear  friend  and  political  chum,  the 
Honorable  Dawson  B.  Fenton ;  Miss  Win- 
ston." 

.    The  gentleman  bowed,  while  the  lady  with 
a  charming  grace  returned  the  courtesy. 

"  And  I  may  bring  my  friend  ? "  he  asked. 

"If  you  will  be  so  kind,  sir,"  and  he 
marveled  at  the  sweetness  of  her  voice. 

"  Ah  !  she  is  gracious  as  she  is  lovely,  and 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  3Q9 

her  voice  is  sweet,  even  as  her  face,"  he  re- 
ported as  he  returned  to  his  set. 

'"But  is  she  married?"  asked  Winston, 
and  his  heart  had  to  stop  an  instant  to  listen 
for  the  answer. 

"  No,  not  married,  but  worse,  she  is  en- 
gaged. Milnes  told  me,  sub-rosa,  by  way  of 
warning.  She  is  to  marry  an  English  lord. 
He  is  on  the  way  now.  Good  Lord  !  how  I 
do  wish  the  ship  would  sink,  in  the  middle  of 
the  Atlantic  !  They  are  waiting  here  for  him. 
They  will  be  married  at  the  British  Lega- 
tion, and  of  course  it  will  be  a  swell  wedding. 
But  come  on,  I  see  an  opening,  and  they  are 
expecting  us, "  and  with  this  he  hustled  them 
through  the  crowd  to  the  central  group. 

Grace  had  turned  again  to  Mrs.  Milnes, 
and  together  they  were  watching  some 
object  on  the  bank.  She  did  not  hear  the 
salutations  of  the  friend,  and  only  turned  in 
response  to  the  call  of  Mr.  Milnes,  to  confront 
the  expectant  strangers. 

"  Miss  Winston,  it  is  with  very  great 
pleasure  that  I  present  Miss  Stanley." 

Both  ladies  involuntarily  gasped.  There 
was  an  electric  recoil  in  the  sound  of  each 
name. 

11  Miss  Winston,"  repeated  the  one,  flush- 
ing red. 


310  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

."Miss  Stanley,"  echoed  the  other,  turning 
a  little  pale.  But  with  a  rare  presence,  and 
unfailing  dignity  of  thought  and  gentleness 
of  manner,  she  quickly  added  :  "I  am  glad 
to  meet  you,  and  must  thank  you  for  the 
wish  to  know  me." 

"And  this,  Miss  Winston,  is  my  political 
fidus  Achates  and  the  Ajax  Telemons  of  the 
Democracy,  the  Honorable  David  R.  Win- 
ston. Being  of  the  same  name  you  two 
should  know  each  other." 

The  feelings  of  the  two,-  husband  and  wife 
thus  introduced  to  each  other  by  a  stranger 
and  in  the  presence  of  strangers,  can  hardly 
be  described.  For  a  moment  they  stood, 
wildly  staring  as  if  suddenly  awakened  from 
a  dream,  and  then,  when  thought  did  come 
again,  it  required  a  Spartan  courage  in  each 
to  keep  back  the  truth.  But  the  lady,  quick- 
est to  recover,  bowed  in  gentle  dignity  and 
with  a  smile,  sweet  for  all  it  cost  her,  she  said : 

"The  name  of  Mr.  Winston  is  not  alto- 
gether unknown  to  me.  His  fame  has  found 
its  way  across  the  sea,  and  I  have  heard  it 
there.  I  esteem  it  an  honor,  sir,  to  know 
you,"  and  again  she  bowed  in  modest 
courtesy. 

"You  are  only  too — too  good,"  was  all  he 
could  find  voice  to  stammer. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  311 

"  I  listened  to  your  speech  yesterday,"  she 
continued,  as  if  wishing  to  relieve  the  pained 
embarrassment  that  was  only  too  plainly 
written  on  his  face.  "I  wished  then  to 
thank  you  for  your  eloquent  words  spoken 
in  defense  of  our  people.  They  were  brave 
words,  sir,  and  I  do  thank  you." 

11 1  appreciate  your  thanks,  but  I  hardly 
deserve  them.  Still  I  shall  always  be  glad 
that  you  heard  me.  It  was  the  proudest 
effort  of  my  life,  and  that  you  approve  makes 
the  achievement  still  the  more  pleasing,"  he 
answered,  recovering  something  of  his  self- 
possession. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Winston,  and  I  must  tell  you, 
too,  how  glad  I  was  that  you  skinned  that 
wretched  old  bigot.  I  could  see  from  my 
place  in  the  gallery  that  even  his  rhinoceros 
hide  squirmed  and  quivered  at  every  stroke 
of  the  lash.  It  was  well  laid  on  and  the 
beast  deserved  it,"  chipped  in  Mrs.  Milnes, 
extending  her  hand  in  friendly  congratula- 
tions. 

This  diversion  served,  at  least,  as  a  foil  to 
the  perplexed  embarrassment  of  the  party. 
The  admirable  presence  of  Grace,  her  words 
so  sweetly  spoken  and  seemingly  artless 
of  all  design  completely  misled  them  all, 
and  none  save  the  two  themselves,  with 


312  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

Whiting  and  his  wife,  had  a  further  sus- 
picion of  their  ever  having  seen  each  other 
before. 

The  solemn  tolling  of  the  bell  was  the 
signal  that  the  steamer  was  passing  the 
tomb  of  Washington,  and  in  a  minute  more 
it  rounded  in  below,  and  ran  up  to  the  strag- 
gling and  staggering  pier,  where,  in  the  rush 
and  confusion  of  landing,  the  parties  sepa- 
rated, each  drifting  off  again  into  its  own 
little  orbit  around  its  central  sun. 

In  inspecting  the  house,  with  its  historic 
odds  and  ends,  finding  an  astounding  dearth 
of  interesting  curiosities  to  wonder  at,  and 
in  exploring  the  grounds  and  gardens,  the 
day  was  pleasantly  enough  spent. 

Lady  Washington's  roses,  now  in  full 
bloom,  were  duly  admired,  but  though  her 
iconoclastic  fingers  were  quite  ready  for 
the  sacrilege,  Miss  Stanley  received  no  hint 
that  one  little  bud  stolen  by  them  would  be 
worn  by  him  as  a  precious  souvenir  next  to 
his  heart,  and  no  trespass  was  committed. 
Poor  lady  !  she  had  but  little  encouragement 
for  any  propitiatory  offering  ;  for  despite  all 
her  little  winning,  witching  arts  she  utterly 
failed  to  arouse  her  companion  from  the 
morose  stupor  into  which  he  had  so  strangely 
fallen.  He  was  not  himself  at  all,  and  she 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  813 

was  piqued  as  well  as  saddened  to  know  the 
cause  of  his  gloom. 

"  Surely,"  she  murmured  to  herself,  "  it 
cannot  be  this  woman  who  is  so  soon  to  be  the 
wife  of  another.  He  is  a  man  of  too  much 
character  to  let  the  passing  beauty  of  a 
strange  woman,  an  adventuress,  I  have  no 
doubt,  so  upset  him.  Oh !  I  have  it  now. 
It  is  the  coincidence  of  the  names  thai^has 
recalled  wretched  memories  of  his  unhappy 
marriage.  That  is  very  sad  to  have  such  a 
shadow  to  always  darken  his  life.  Poor, 
dear  fellow,  I  do  pity  him,"  and  in  her  pity, 
always  charming,  tender  and  sweet  in 
woman,  but  doubly  so  in  a  pretty  woman, 
she  redoubled  her  efforts  to  chase  away  the 
shadows. 

A  basket  lunch  under  the  trees,  each  group 
spreading  its  own,  rounded  up  the  entertain- 
ment on  the  grounds,  and  then  a  prolonged 
whistle  from  the  boat  sent  them  all  crowding 
aboard,  and  then  with  another  burst  of  music 
from  the  band,  the  boat  backed  out,  and 
rounding  up  the  stream,  the  home  voyage 
began. 

The  voyage  began  as  pleasantly  as  did  the 
morning's.  The  spacious  deck  below  had 
been  cleared  for  dancing,  and  with  the  airy 
strains  of  music  to  thrill,  happy  hearts  kept 


314  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

time  to  the  tread  of  nimble  feet.  Every- 
thing was  charming  and  everything  was 
gladness  ; 

"  Soft  eyes  spake  love  to  eyes  that  spake  again, 
And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage,  bell," 

when  suddenly  there  came  from  below  a 
sharp,  wild  cry  of  terror,  followed  in  a  second 
by  .a  startled  chorus  of  "Fire  !  fire  !  fire  ! 
The  Lord  save  us,  the  boat's  on  fire  !  " 

In  an  instant  all  was  fright  and  confusion. 
The  music  hushed.  The  isolated  couples 
looked  at  each  other  in  a  vague  terror,  and 
then  clasping  arms,  hurried  to  join  the  scurry- 
ing mob.  The  little  whist  parties  dropped 
the  cards,  to  spring  up  and  run  below.  The 
dancers  paused  a  moment  to  grasp  the 
danger,  and  then  discarding  partners,  sauve 
qui  peut,  commenced  a  cowardly  scramble 
for  life. 

The  boat's  officers  had  discovered  the  fire 
first,  and  vainly  strove  to  suppress  it,  until 
seeing  no  possible  chance  to  save  the  boat 
ttie  captain  ordered  the  pilot  to  head  for  the 
shore,  and  then  the  startling  cry  went  up. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  moment  to  lower 
the  boats.  Five  staunch  life-boats ;  suffi- 
cient, if  order  could  be  maintained,  to 
serve  for  all.  Almost  as  quickly  as  they 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  315 

touched  the  water  the  boats  were  filled, 
men,  women,  and  children  clambering  over 
each  other  and  crowding  in.  Four,  crowded 
to  their  utmost  capacity,  were  filled  and 
had  just  put  off,  when  the  steamer 
grounded  in  the  mud,  two  hundred  yards 
from  the  shore.  The  one  remaining  boat 
was  already  half  filled  and  would  hardly 
suffice  for  the  frantic  crowd  that  remained 
on  the  burning  deck,  beating  each  other 
back  in  the  mad  rush  for  safety. 

Winston's  first  thought  was  for  his  wife. 
With  eyes  hungry  in  passionate  anxiety,  he 
had  watched  each  boat  as  it  filled  and  put 
off,  praying,  as  he  had  never  prayed  before, 
that  she  might  be  saved  ;  but  he  had  nowhere 
seen  her.  Mr.  Milnes  he  had  seen,  with  his 
wife,  taking  their  places  in  the  first  that  put 
off.  Whiting  he  recognized,  too,  as,  with 
his  own  wife  lifted  bodily  in  his  arms,  he 
beat  his  way  forward,  trampling  down,  as 
he  went,  a  little  child  in  his  desperate  rush 
for  a  place  ;  but  nowhere  was  she,  the  one 
woman  who  must  be  saved,  to  be  seen. 

But,  true  to  his  trust,  the  first  duty  was  to 
the  helpless  girl  who  clung  so  desperately  to 
his  arm,  and,  fiercely  beating  his  way,  he 
carried  her  to  the  boat,  the  last  to  put  off. 
Fenton  was  already  in. 


BJL6  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  Here,  Fenton,  take  care  of  Miss  Stanley," 
shaking  the  clinging  clutch  from  his  arm 
and  lifting  her  forward. 

"Yes  !  oh,  yes  ! "  catching  the  outreach- 
ing  arms  and  lifting  her  into  the  boat.  ' i  And 
you  jump  in  ;  there  must  be  room  for  you, 
even  if  we  have  to  put  some  one  else  over- 
board." 

"No;  I  must  leave  her  with  you.  I  go 
back  for  my  wife. " 

"  No,  no  !  Do  come,  for  heaven's  sake  ! 
It  will  be  death  for  you  to  stay  ! "  cried  the 
young  lady,  finding  a  thought  for  others, 
now  that  she  was  assured  of  her  own  safety. 
"  Don't  you  see  it  will  be  death  for  you  to 
stay  ?  Let  her  go,  but  do  you  come,"  reach- 
ing out  her  arms  in  agonizing  tenderness. 

"Jump  in,  Cap'n.  We've  no  time  fer 
foolin'.  I'm  gwine  ter  shove  off.  The  b'iler 
'ill  bust  in  a  minit,  an'  we'll  all  be  blowed  ter 
kingdom  come  feet  up'ards.  Jump  aboard, 
if  you're  gwine  ter,"  ordered  the  mate  in 
charge  of  the  boat. 

"But  there  is  a  lady  aboard.  I  must  find 
her — my  wife.  Wait  a  moment  until  I  can 
run  up  after  her  ;"  and,  without  waiting  an 
answer,  he  turned  to  speed  up  the  cabin 
steps. 

"  No,  I  can't  wait  another  second.     Shove 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  317 

off,  Bullard,  and  bend  to  your  oars,  men  ;  we 
must  hustle  from  here,  or  there  won't  be  a 
piece  of  us  left  big  enuff  ter  patch  a  nigger's 
nose, "  and  in  an  instant  the  boat  shot  out, 
leaving  the  helpless  man  and  his  missing 
wife  to  their  fate. 

The  flames  had  already  burst  through  the 
hatches  in  the  lower  deck,  and  were  now 
sweeping  it  from  stem  to  stern,  hissing  and 
swirling  and  crackling  like  angry  demons, 
while  the  choking,  pitchy  smoke  was  belch- 
ing and  curling  through  the  saloon  and  cabin 
above. 

"It  maybe  that  she  is  asleep  in  a  state- 
room. God  help  me  to  find  her,"  he  mur- 
mured; and  into  the  seething  smoke  he 
plunged,  to  find  and  save,  if  possible,  or,  if 
not,  to  perish,  too. 

There  was  more  than  mortal  pathos  in  his 
voice  as,  groping  his  way  through  the  blind- 
ing and  smothering  smoke,  he  wailed  rather 
than  cried  : 

"Abigail !  Abigail !  My  wife  !  my  love  ! 
If  you  hear,  for  the  love  of  Christ  come,  or 
else  call,  that  I  may  go  to  thee  !  " 

But  there  was  no  response  to  the  agonizing 
call ;  and,  having  traversed  the  full  length 
of  the  cabin  hall,  kicking  open,  as  if  they  had 
been  so  many  paper  shells,  each  stateroom 


318  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

door,  on  the  right  and  on  the  left,  as  he  went, 
until,  at  last,  scorched  and  driven  by  the 
hissing  tongues  of  the  flames  themselves,  as 
they  began  to  thrust  themselves  through  the 
cracks  and  crevices  of  the  floor,  he  was  com- 
pelled, through  sheer  exhaustion,  to  seek  one 
more  gasp  of  fresh  air  out  upon  the  after- 
deck,  the  one  only  little  breathing  spot  left  of 
all  that  broad  sweep  of  deck. 

"Oh  !  my  darling  !  my  darling  !  Mine — 
mine  at  last !  And  now  I  am  willing  to 
die ! "  he  cried,  as  he  found  her  out  there, 
driven  to  the  uttermost  verge  of  the  deck, 
and  standing,  as  if  thoughtfully  deliberating 
which  to  choose — the  sharp,  quick  death  by 
the  flames,  or  the  Lethean  gloom  of  the  dark 
waters  below. 

"  Oh  !  is  it  for  me  that  you  have  come? 
My  God,  I  thank  Thee  !  And  I,  too,  am  will- 
ing to  die  ! "  she  answered,  reaching  out  her 
hands.  And  then,  encircled  in  each  other's 
arms,  heart  beating  against  heart,  lip  glued 
to  lip  in  one  long,  tender,  loving  kiss,  all  the 
miserable  past  was  lifted  away ;  all  misun- 
derstanding, all  estrangement,  all  doubts 
were  cleared  from  their  lives,  and,  soul  melt- 
ing in  soul,  each  felt  that  henceforth,  be  it  in 
life  or  be  it  in  death,  they  were  no  longer  to 
be  divided. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  319 

For  a  full  minute  he  held  her  there,  close 
to  his  heart,  each  oblivious  to  the  hissing  and 
roaring  danger  that  held  them  ;  and  then, 
lifted  up  by  a  sudden  inspiration,  he  released 
her,  and,  gently  putting  her  back,  he  cried : 

"But,  darling,  we  need  not  die;  I  have 
come  to  save  you.  You  must  let  me." 

"  Yes  ;  life  from  your  hands  will  be'sweet, 
as  death  in  your  arms  would  be  sweet,"  she 
answered,  calmly. 

"Then,  here,  we  have  only  to  be  brave," 
seizing  the  cork- jackets  that  lay  untouched 
around.  "Fasten  this  around  your  waist — 
let  me  !  "  and  in  an  instant  he  had  a  life-pre- 
server buckled  under  her  arms. 

And  then,  as  calmly  as  if  disrobing  for  a 
siesta  he  threw  off  his  coat  and  drew  off  his 
boots  and  fastened  a  mattress  of  floats 
around  his  own  waist,  encouragingly  speak- 
ing all  the  while. 

"I  can  swim,  darling,  and  can  save  you. 
You  must  trust  me  to  save  you,  only  be 
brave  and  strong  and  trust  me .  " 

' '  I  will  be  brave.  I  am  not  afraid.  I  can 
nnd  I  do  trust  you,  only  this,  give  me  one 
little  moment,  it  maybe  our  last,  but  I  must 
tell  you  before  I  go,  how  dearly  I  love  you; 
how  much  my  heart  blesses  you  for  coming, 
and  how  very,  very  happy  I  am." 


320  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"And  I  bless  you  for  speaking  it,  for  I, 
too,  am  happy.  It  would  be  sweet  to  die, 
holding  you  thus,  my  own  precious  wife," 
catching  her  to  his  heart  again. 

She  kissed  him  softly,  and  gently  putting 
him  back,  answered. 

"  Yes,  if  God  wills  it  for  us  thus  to  die,  I 
could  wish  for  no  happier  fate  than  to  die 
with  your  arms  about  me,  and  in  death  to 
be 'no  more  divided.  But,  my  husband,  I 
am  ready,  what  is  it  you  would  have  me 
do?" 

"Yes,  we  have  no  time  to  lose.  And 
now,  sweet  one,  you  must  not  mind,  but  you 
must  divest  yourself  of  all  your  superfluous 
skirts  ;  you  must  not  be  encumbered  with 
too  much  clothing;  they  will  only  weight 
you  down  and  hinder  you." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  understand,  it  would  be  a  false 
modesty  not  to  know ; "  and  turning  aside 
she  deftly  discarded  all  her  surplus  drapery, 
blushing  in  true  maiden  modesty  as  she 
stood  before  him,  with  only  her  one  clinging 
gown  of  summer  cashmere  to  drape  her  lis- 
some form. 

"  I  am  ready,  now,"  she  said..  "  Or  shall 
I  take  off  my  shoes  ? " 

"  No,  you  are  safe  as  you  are,  and  we  have 
not  a  moment  left.  I  will  jump  first,  and 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  321 

you  must  follow,  only  be  brave.  And  now 
sweet,  one  more  kiss.  God  bless  you,  my 
sweet,  sweet  wife,"  and  with  a  kiss  holy  in 
its  agony  of  love,  he  embraced  her  once 
more  and  then  plunged  in. 

In  an  instant  he  arose  from  the  water  and 
holding  up  his  hands  cried,  "Now,  darling, 
come." 

With  the  calm  dignity  of  a  Caesar,  draw- 
ing his  robes  about  him  to  face  his  death, 
and  as  graceful  as  a  Greek  goddess  stepping 
into  a  bath,  she  gathered  the  soft  folds  of  her 
dress  closely  around  her  knees,  and  with  a 
silent  prayer  for  grace  she  sprang  after 
him. 

She  had  hardly  touched  the  water  before 
she  felt  herself  upborne  by  the  buoyant, 
strong  hand  of  her  husband. 

Wheeling  his  back  to  her  he  said,  his  voice 
strong  and  assuring  : 

"Now,  sweet  one,  you  must  rest  your 
hands  on  my  shoulders  and  swim  on  my 
back.  This  way,"  placing  the  obedient 
hands  in  position.  "Hold  firmly,  but  do 
not  try  to  climb  over  me  ;  never  mind  your 
body  if  it  is  under,  do  not  try  to  keep  it  out; 
every  pound  in  the  air  outweighs  ten  in  the 
water.  Do  not  gulp  the  water  down,  but  in- 
hale as  much  air  as  possible;  keep  your  chest 

su 


322  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

\ 


inflated.  Kick  as  much  as  you  please,  but  do 
not  try  to  pull  up  with  your  hands.  Ah, 
now,  you  have  only  to  be  brave  and  collected 
and  I  will  save  you,"  and  with  vigorous 
strokes  from  his  strong  arms  he  launched 
out  into  the  current. 

Luckily  the  tide  was  running  out  and  a 
strong  current  was  sweeping  by,  and  a  few 
strokes  carried  him  beyond  the  scorching 
breath  of  the  flames. 

He  soon  found,  however,  that  the  current 
set  strongly  to  the  opposite  shore,  fully  a 
mile  away.  He  tried  to  steer  for  the  nearer 
bank,  but  the  cross-current  was  too  strong 
and  he  gave  it  up.  By  floating  with  the 
current  and  buoyed  up  by  the  cork  jackets 
he  could  swim  for  hours,  and  yielding  to  its 
drift  he  struck  out  upon  the  tide. 

"  Now,  dearest,  how  are  you  ? "  he  asked, 
after  a  few  minutes'  silence  had  assured  him 
of  his  strength. 

"  You  must  not  think  me  selfish,  but  I  am 
very  happy,"  she  answered,  unconsciously 
tightening  her  clasp  upon  his  shoulders 
with  a  tender  pressure. 

"God  bless  you,"  he  murmured,  more  in 
response  to  the  tender  clasp  than  to  the 
words  she  whispered,  although  they  were 
marvelously  sweet. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  323 

"But  you?"  she  asked,  "how  is  it  with 
you  ?  Do  you  feel  my  weight  too  heavily  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  do  not  feel  it  at  all,  but  rather, 
darling,  the  touch  of  your  hand  is  a  buoy  to 
my  strength.  It  gives  energy  and  life  to  all 
my  being.  I  could  swim  thus  to  Fortress 
Monroe." 

Five  minutes  more  and  they  were  half-way 
across  and  could  begin  to  distinguish  objects 
on  the  bank. 

"Ah,  they  see  us  from  the  shore  and  are 
coming  to  help,"  she  cried,  as  she  espied  a 
lady  running  down  the  bank,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  two  negro  men. 

"It  may  be  good  in  them,  but  I  do  not 
want  their  help.  I  wish  to  save  my  dar- 
ling all  by  myself.  Oh,  Abigail,  do  you 
know  that  I  would  be  glad  to  die  for  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,  I  understand  it,  for  I  feel 
it  all  myself.  But,  sir,  you  have  saved  me, 
and  all  by  yourself,  for  had  you  not  come  I 
must  have  perished.  Ah,  how  good  it  was 
in  you  to  come." 

"But  how  came  it  that  you  were  left 
there  all  alone  by  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  was  in  my  stateroom.  I  had  secured 
a  room  and  was — was — trying  to — to — hide 
away  from  all  that  happy  throng,  and  I  did 
not  know,  until  I  felt  the  boat  as  it  grounded  ; 


324  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

and  then  the  smoke  came  so  blinding  that  I 
could  only  make  my  way  to  where  you 
found  me.  Oh  !  I  must  always  bless  you  for 
coming. " 

The  lady  on  shore  had  now  reached  the 
landing  and  was  hurriedly  encouraging  the 
darkies  to  launch  a  boat. 

"  Now,"  she  cried,  as  the  boat  floated  high 
and  the  negroes  sprang  in.  "  Now,  pull  for 
your  lives,  and  I'll  give  you  five  silver  dollars 
if  you  save  him." 

"  Yes-um  we'll  git  dar,  an'  doan  yer  skeer 
yourseff,  Miss  Tally,"  and  off  they  pulled  for 
dear  life. 

"  And  you,  little  Jack,"  she  continued,  as 
a  grinning  little  imp  of  ebony  came  puffing 
down  the  bank,  "  run  back  to  the  house  and 
tell  papa  to  send  the  carriage.  Oh  !  I  do  be- 
lieve there  are  two  of  them !  Yes,  indeed 
there  are  two,"  adjusting  her  glass  and  look- 
ing again,  ' '  and  one  is  a  lady  !  Run,  Jack, 
and  tell  him  to  hurry  with  the  carriage  and 
to  put  in  the  cloaks  and  the  blankets  and  the 
brandy.  Pull,  Ben !  pull,  Dick  !  pull  for 
your  lives,  you  rascals,  you  !  Ah  !  that  is 
brave  !  Huzza  !  you  are  gaining  on  them 
fast  !  Pull  !  pull !  both  together  !  Ah  !  there, 
you  have  them  now  !  Safe  !  safe  !  thank  God 


DAVID  AXD  ABIGAIL.  325 

they  are  safe  !  Huzza  !  huzza  !  "  and  dancing 
in  wild  delight  she  threw  up  her  hat  unmind- 
ful of  the  breeze  that  swept  it,  ribbons,  feath- 
ers and  all  like  a  kite,  far  out  into  the 
river,  as  she  saw  the  negroes  drop  their  oars 
and  lift  a  lady  in,  and  followed  by  a  man 
dripping  like  a  great  Newfoundland  dog,  as 
he  pulled  himself  over  the  gunwale. 

The  boat  was  turned  and  rapidly  pulled 
in  to  shore. 

"  Ah  !  you  are  safe  !  We  saw  the  burning 
boat  and  then  we  saw  you  jump  in.  We 
could  see  through  the  telescope,  and  when 
we  saw  you  drifting  with  the  current  to  this 
side  we  ran  down  to  help.  It  was  a  brave 
swim  you  made.  I  don't  much  believe  I 
could  have  beaten  it  myself.  I  am  so  glad 
that  you  could  hold  out.  It  was  a  fearful 
thing  to  see  you  struggling  so  far  out  in  the 
river,"  rattled  the  young  lady,  in  encourag- 
ing volubility,  as  she  stood  up  to  her  ankles 
in  mud,  to  welcome  them  to  the  land. 

"And  we  must  thank  you  for  your 
help —  -"  commenced  the  gentleman. 

"  No  !  no  ! "  quickly  interrupting,  "  it  was 
nothing  but  right.  And  besides  it  wasn't 
really  so  much,  after  all.  I  have  swam 
across  to  the  lower  point  yonder,  myself. 
And  the  lady — I  hope  you  are  not  quite 


326  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

overcome,"  turning  her  attention  to  Abi- 
gail. 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  do  not  feel  the  slightest  dis- 
comfort ;  only  gratitude  and  love  and  glad- 
ness," putting  her  hands  to  her  face  and 
bursting  into  tears. 

For  a  moment  he  suffered  her  to  weep — 
pent-up  nature  required  this  much — and 
then,  kneeling  before  her,  he  took  her  in 
his  arms  and  kissed  the  tears  away. 

The  lady,  respecting  the  feelings  that 
swayed  them  both,  turned  away  her  face. 

'•Ah  !  here  is  papa  with  the  cloaks.  Is 
the  carriage  coming  ? "  as  an  elderly  gentle- 
man came  puffing  down  the  bank,  loaded 
with  cloaks  and  wraps. 

"Yes,  the  carriage  is  coming,  but  I  have 
brought  the  brandy  with  me.  Here,  my 
dear  miss,  let  me  offer  you  a  stiff  horn — 

"Oh,  no,  no!  papa,  see,  or,  no,  you 
mustn't  look.  Give  me  the  wraps  and  cloak 
and  you  turn  your  back,"  snatching  the  vest- 
ments from  him  and  pouncing  upon  the 
shrinking  lady.  Her  feminine  instincts  were 
quick  to  discover  the  skirtless  predicament 
of  her  sister-woman  and  in  an  instant  she 
was  hovering  over  her,  winding  wrap  upon 
wrap,  and  cloak  over  cloak,  until  there  was 
suffocation.  "Now,  papa,  you 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  327 

may  look,"  after  the  draping  had  been 
finished,  or  rather  suspended  for  the  lack  of 
another  cloak,  and  the  muffled  lady  stood 
blushing  before  him. 

"  Ah,  yes  !  I  must  beg  your  pardon,  miss, 
for  my  indiscretion,  but  really  I  wouldn't  have 
noticed  your — your — ah  !  hem — anything, 
if  Sallie  hadn't  told  me.  You  must  excuse 
me ! "  bowing  rather  sheepishly,  with  his 
good-natured  face  as  red  as  a  beet.  "And 
now  you  will  have  a  dram  ?  " 

"I  am  sure  it  will  help  you,"  said  her  hus- 
band, taking  the  glass  for  her. 

Without  question  she  took  the  glass  and 
drank  its  contents.  Had  he  suggested  a  glass 
of  hydrocyanic  acid  she  would  have  swal- 
lowed it  down  with  a  smile. 

' c  And  now  you  ? "  she  asked,  considerate 
of  his  comfort. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  certainly,"  and  had  it  been  a 
potion  of  the  same  deadly  drug,  he  would 
have  as  willingly  drank  it  down  from  her 
hands.  ' '  And  here,  sir, ' '  filling  the  glass  an  d 
waving  it  to  the  gentleman,  "are  my  most 
humble  regards,"  and  then  with  a  bow  to 
the  young  lady,  "and  you,  fair  lady,  must 
allow  me  to  pledge  my  most  grateful 
duty." 

The  young  lady  acknowledged  the  health 


328  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

by  a  charming  little  courtsey,  and  the  old 
gentleman  chipped  in  :^ 

"  Thanks,  sir,  both  for  myself  and  my 
daughter  ;  and  here  is  a  coat  for  you.  It  is 
none  too  cool,  but  until  we  can  get  you  to 
the  house  and  get  off  those  soggy  clothes, 
it  will  be  best  to  wrap  up  a  little." 

The  young  gentleman  felt  no  pressing 
need  of  the  precaution,  but  he  accepted  the 
friendly  offer  and  donned  the  coat,  which,  by 
a  happy  chance,  was  a  passable  fit. 

"  Come,  now,  the  carriage  is  ready.  We 
must  get  you  both  to  the  house,  and  have 
dry  clothing,  if  not  put  you  to  bed,"  con- 
tinued the  hospitable  gentleman,  leading  the 
way  to  the  carriage. 

"  Let  the  ladies  ride.  I  should  prefer  the 
walk.  It  will  strengthen  me.  My  legs  are 
a  little  stiff,"  Winston  begged,  after  handing 
the  ladies  in.  The  carriage  drove  on  and  the 
gentlemen  walked  after,  Winston  in  his 
stocking-feet ;  but  the  grassy  lawn  was  as 
soft  as  a  carpet,  and  his  heart  so  strangely 
light  and  happy  that  he  felt  as  if  he  was 
walking  on  a  bed  of  roses. 

Arrived  at  the  house  the  first  thing  was  to 
hurry  them  to  rooms  and  to  see  to  the  bath 
and  dry  clothing. 

The  lavender-scented   wardrobe  of    Miss 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  329 

Vincent  was  ample  for  any  emergency,  and 
had  Abigail — Abigail  once  more,  now  and 
forever — listened  to  its  hospitable  sugges- 
tions, she  would  have  found  it  difficult  to 
walk  under  the  avalanche  of  snowy  lingerie, 
cambric,  lawn  and  mull,  urged  upon  her. 
And  then  as  to  gowns  :  what  would  she 
wear  ?  "A  lilac  silk  ;  a  heliotrope  cash- 
mere ;  a  mauve  barege  ;  a  pink  challie  ;  a 
rose  organdie,  or  would  you  like  this  black 
alpaca  ?  We  are  luckily  nearly  the  same 
size  and  figure,  so  that  any  of  them  will 
fit  you,  and  they  are  all  equally  at  your 
service. " 

' '  If  you  please,  I  will  wear  this  organdie  ; 
it  looks  so  fresh  and  bright,  and  my  heart  is 
so  fresh,  and  light,  and  glad,  that  I  should 
wish  everything  to  be  in  harmony  with  its 
gladness. " 

"  Certainly,  yes  ;  and  it  will  so  well  be- 
come your — well,  I  must  speak  it — your  fresh 
and  radiant  beauty.  And  now  for  boots  ;  I 
am  quite  in  despair  ;  you  can  never  wear  one 
of  my  enormous  galoshes  ;  so  you  will  have 
to  stagger  around  in  a  pair  of  my  slippers, 
until  Clary  can  dry  yours." 

"  Yes  !  if  you  please.  The  slippers  will  do 
charmingly,  I  am  sure,  and  mine  can  soon 
dry." 


330  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  To  be  sure.  Here,  Clary,  get  a  sponge 
and  brush  and  dry  the  lady's  boots.  Put  hot 
peas  in  them,  that  will  soon  dry  them.  And 
here,  you  must  clean  mine  too,  the  mud  is 
nearly  to  their  tops.  And,  Clary,  tell  Ben 
to  go  down  to  the  landing  and  look  for  my 
hat ;  it  blew  in  the  river.  Tell  him  to  find 
it  and  give  it  to  Dolly. " 

The  thin  boots  were  easily  dried,  and  by 
the  time  the  magnificent  suit  of  hair  had 
been  taken  down,  straightened  out  and  ad- 
mired, and  then  coiled  again  into  a  crown  of 
queenly  beauty,  Clary  came  in 'with  them, 
and  lacing  them  on,  Abigail  Winston  stepped 
forth  to  go  down  into  the  drawing-room  to 
join  the  others,  as  bright,  fresh,  rosy  and 
sweet,  a  lovely  bride  as  ever  stepped  forth  to 
meet  her  heart's  chosen  lord. 

The  gentleman's  toilet  had  not  been  nearly 
so  elaborate,  nor  so  troublesome  to  select. 
Suitable,  easy-fitting  unmentionables  had 
been  found,  and  a  plain  dress  suit  well-be- 
coming to  the  tall  manly  form  from  Mr.  Vin- 
cent, Jr.'s  wardrobe,  put  him  in  satisfied 
countenance  with  himself  and  all  the  world. 
No  ill  effects  of  the  plunge  nor  the  swim 
was  felt  by  either  of  the  young  persons,  but, 
rather  invigorated  by  the  plunge  and  its  sup- 
plemental bath  at  the  house,  they  felt  a 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  331 

warm  glow  of  health  and  strength  and 
youthful  vivre  tingling  every  vein  and 
dancing  in  every  nerve. 

The  gentlemen  had  preceded  the  ladies  to 
the  drawing-room,  and  Winston  was  ex- 
plaining the  nature  of  the  disaster  when 
they  came  in. 

David  arose,  as  Abigail  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment in  the  door,  as  if  uncertain  still  of  her 
welcome.  Never  before  had  she  appeared  to 
such  an  advantage,  so  radiantly  lovely ;  so 
bewitchingly  sweet ;  so  gloriously  beautiful ; 
and  then  whe'n  she  caught  the  love-light  in 
his  eye,  her  very  being  was  beatified,  and 
she  stood,  in  her  gladness,  more  angelic  than 
human. 

For  a  little  while,  absolutely  spellbound 
in  the  bliss  of  adoration,  he  stood  and  gazed 
upon  her,  and  then  he  stepped  forward  to 
meet  her.  Drawing  her  to  his  breast  he 
tenderly  kissed  her  and  then  taking  her 
hand  he  turned  to  his  host  : 

"Mr.  Vincent,  this  is  my  wife,  Mrs. 
Winston.  I  always  knew  that  women  were 
gracious  and  sweet,  but  this  one  has  taught 
me  that  they  can  be  noble,  grand  and  true 
as  well." 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  Mrs.  Winston,  and 
do  most  heartily  congratulate  you  upon 


332  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

the  possession  of  such  a  woman  for  your 
wife.  And  you,  Madam,  I  must  congrat- 
ulate you  upon  your  happy  escape.  It  was 
a  fearful  thing  to  see  the  burning  of  that 
magnificent  boat." 

"  Yes  !  Thanks  for  your  kindness,"  smil- 
ingly shaking  the  friendly  hand.  And  then 
turning  to  Miss  Vincent  she  .continued  : 
"And  you,  Miss  Vincent,  you  must  allow 
me  to  present  my  husband.  If  women  can 
be  gracious  men  can  be  brave.  At  the 
peril  of  his  own  he  saved  my  life.  Sweet  as 
it  was  before,  it  is  doubly  sweet  to  me  now." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Winston,"  offering  a  friendly 
hand.  "I  witnessed  your  peril  and  your* 
courage  ;  the  one  was  appalling,  as  the 
other  was  sublime,  and  I,  too,  must  con- 
gratulate you  upon  your  deliverance." 

"Thank  you,  but  it  was  my  wife's,"  ah  ! 
was  there  ever  such  a  honeyed  word  on  his 
tongue  before ?  "It  was  my  wife's  courage 
that  inspired  my  own.  And  you,  Miss 
Vincent,  I  must  thank  you  again  for  your 
timely  assistance.  And  your  negroes — I 
must  reward  thera  ! " 

"Oh!  nevermind,  you.     I  have   already 
done    that.     I   promised    them    five    silver 
dollars  if  they  saved  you  in  time." 
1  "Then  you  must  let  me  add  ten  more  to 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  333 

that.  Please  do  !  But— humph  !  Well,  well ! 
I  do  believe  that  I  left  my  pocket-book  in 
my  coat !  Yes,  it  is  gone, "  f eeling  blankly  for 
his  pocket-book. 

"  Oh  !  did  you  ?  I  hope  it  was  not  a  seri- 
ous loss,"  cried  the  young  lady. 

"Ah,  no  !  scarcely  a  hundred  dollars,  and 
a  few  unimportant  papers.  The  loss  is  not 
serious,  and  does  not  greatly  matter,  only, 
it  is  a  little  embarrassing  to  find  myself 
thrown  so  completely  upon  your  charity. " 

"  Oh  !  we  are  only  too  glad  to  serve  you," 
interrupted  the  hospitable  host.  '  'And  never 
mind  the  boys  ;  I  will  settle  it  with  them." 

"I  was  more  fortunate  with  mine,"  said 
Abigail,  handing  him  her  porte-monnaie. 
' '  I  had  it  in  my  dress-pocket  and  it  is  safe. 
Please  take  it  ? " 

The  tender  love-light  in  his  eyes  thanked 
her  as  he  took  it ;  and  opening  he  took  two 
gold  pieces  and  handing  them  to  Miss 
Vincent,  said  : 

"Please  give  these  to  the  men  with  our 
thanks. " 

There  was  a  little  hitch  in  closing  the 
inner  clasp  of  the  porte-monnaie,  and  looking 
to  adjust  it  he  saw,  suddenly  flashed  to  light 
from  its  long  hiding-place  in  the  inner 
pocket,  the  little,  thin,  well-worn  wedding- 


334  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

ring.  He  recognized  it  with  a  thrill,  and 
taking  it  out  reverently  kissed  it,  and  turn- 
ing to  Abigail,  said  : 

' '  Ah  !  here  is  the  ring  !  Blessed  ring  !  I 
must  put  it  on  again,"  and  taking  her  hand 
he  placed  it  upon  her  finger,  to  be  buried 
with  her  when  she  conies  to  die. 

The  stranger  witnesses  did  not  understand 
the  reverential  tremor  in  his  voice,  nor  the 
tear  in  her  eye,  but  they  instinctively  felt 
that  they  were  standing  in  the  presence  of 
a  mortal  love  made  holy  by  suffering  and  by 
sorrow. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AFTERMATH. 

A  FEW  moments'  silence,  almost  holy  in  its 
solemn  hush,  followed,  and  then  came  the 
long,  hoarse  signal-whistle  of  a  passing 
steamer,  floating  up  from  the  river  into  the 
hall  and  windows. 

"Ah  !  that  is   the  Taney,  signaling  the 
wreck.     She  is  going  to  land  for  the  passen- 
gers," cried  Mr.  Vincent,  starting  out  upon 
the  veranda  to  see. 
•  "Indeed  !   And  cannot  we  hail  it?    We 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  335 

must  get  back  to  the  capital  at  once,  or  our 
friends  will  give  us  out  as  lost,"  said 
Winston,  following  eagerly  after. 

"No,  that  is  impossible.  She  will  land 
nearly  a  mile  above,  on  the  opposite  side, 
and  will  not  drop  back  for  me.  She  is 
nearly  an  hour  behind,  anyway." 

"  But  how  am  I  to  communicate  with  the 
city  ?  It  is  urgent.  Our  friends  already 
think  us  lost,  and  the  news  must  not  be  sent 
abroad. " 

"I  can  send  the  carriage  to  Alexandria  ; 
it  is  but  an  hour's  drive,  and  you  can  catch 
a  boat  there.  There  is  a  ferry  every  half 
hour.  It  is  now  five- twenty,  Jim  can  have 
you  there  in  time  for  the  six-thirty  boat. 
I  wish,  though,  that  you  would  allow  me  to 
send  a  messenger  to  the  city,  and  you  stop 
with  us  until  to-morrow.  Mrs.  Winston,  I 
am  sure  needs  the  rest. " 

"  If  so,  if  she  needs 'it,  we  will  stay,"  turn- 
ing a  loving  glance  to  his  wife,  who  with 
Miss  Vincent  had  followed  them  out. 

"Oh,  no  !  If  possible,  we  should  go  at 
once.  Poor  Nanny,  I  know,  will  be  distract- 
ed when  she  learns  that  I  am  missing.  And 
Mrs.  Whiting  !  Oh  !  we  must  relieve  them 
if  we  can,"  said  Abigail,  in  sad  concern  for 
the  anxiety  of  Nanny. 


336         .  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

11  Very  well.  I  appreciate  your  solicitude, 
and  will  excuse  you  ;  only  you  must  promise 
to  come  down  and  spend  a  whole  week  with 
us  before  Congress  adjourns." 

"  It  will  be  a  pleasure  to  us  to  make  your 
better  acquaintance,  and  we  will  come  ; "  and 
thus  settled,  the  carriage  was  ordered,  and  in 
a  few  moments  more  they  were  rapidly 
bowling  along  the  well- graded  road  on  the 
way  to  Alexandria. 

"  And  now,  darling,  tell  me  ?  "  he  asked, 
settling  back  by  her  side  on  the  springy  seat 
of  the  'phaeton,  as  they  whirled  along  the 
pleasant  way  beneath  the  green  trees. 

"Of  my  life  abroad,  and  how  I  came 
home  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,  yes,  tell  all.  I  wish  to  know  every- 
thing about  you.  Where  all  you  have  been  ? 
And  how  you  came  ?  Ah  !  you  cannot  know 
how  fondly  my  poor  heart  has  followed,  or 
tried  to  follow  you,  in  all  these  days  of  weary 
exile. " 

"  I  think  I  know  now,  for  my  own  heart 
has  felt  all  of  the  sad  unrest.  I  could  hear 
from  you,  though,  through  the  press,  and 
that  gave  me  comfort.  Oh  !  I  was  so  proud  of 
your  advancement,  of  your  distinction — 

"And  do  you  know,  darling,  that  I  owe  it 
all  to  you  ? "  he  interrupted. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  337 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  know  that  I  had  a 
little,  if  ever  so  little,  part  in  your  suc- 
cess." 

"No  ;  not  a  little  ;  not  a  part  only,  but  a 
whole,  an  entirety.  All,  all  that  I  am  I  owe 
to  you.  And,  sweet  one,  I  am  so  glad  that 
I  do.  But  tell  on  of  yourself.  Never  mind 
me,  but  of  your  own  dear  self  ? " 

"  Well,  my  life  was  not  altogether  a 
blank,  I  loved  you  all  the  while  and  should 
have  loved  you  always,  that  is,  unless  a  hap- 
pier one  should  have  taken  you  from  me  and 
made  it  a  sin  for  me  to  love  you  at  all," 
with  a  little  shudder  at  the  vanished  possi- 
bility, soothed  by  a  tighter  pressure  of  his 
arm  around  her  waist.  "  But  it  was  a  lone- 
some waiting,  and  my  heart  would  some- 
times grow  faint  and  sick  with  its  impatient 
longing,  but  I  could  find  courage  to  bear  it, 
and,  naturally  of  a  glad  temperament,  I 
made  the  best  of  it.  I  had  good  friends  ;  very 
kind  and  very  sweet ;  I  had  a  pleasant  home 
near  Florence,  where  we  spent  the  winter, 
and  in  the  summer  we  would  travel.  We 
visited  all  the  cities  of  Europe,  and  Palestine 
and  Egypt.  Of  course  it  was  exciting  and 
curious,  if  not  really  pleasant,  and  it  served 
to  divert  my — my — my,  well  I  must  say  it, 

my  sorrowing  thoughts  from  home." 

22 


338  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  My  poor  wing- weary  dove." 

"Yes,  at  times  I  grew  weary,  and  was 
almost  glad  when  the  November  frosts 
would  send  us  back  to  Florence." 

"  Ah,  tell  me  of  Florence,  and  of  your 
country  home  !  Do  you  know  that  I,  too, 
heard  from  you  ?  That  "I  had  a  little  bird, 
constantly  on  the  wing  bringing  me  tidings 
of  my  Princess." 

"Oh!  did  you?  Then  I  hope  it  was  a 
nightingale,  silver-throated  and  sweet,  and 
it  told  you  of  all  my  pleasant  dreams  of  you, 
and  the  many  happy  happy  thoughts  I  was 
all  the  while  thinking  of  you." 

"And  did  you  dream  of  me,  darling?  I 
must  bless  you  for  your  dreams.  And  I  know, 
too,  that  you  were  thoughtful  of  me  ;  kindly 
thoughtful  of  me.  I  heard,  quite  by  acci- 
dent, of  your  letter  to  Mr.  Sneed,  and  oh, 
darling  !  while  it  shamed  me  with  a  sense 
of  my  own  unworthiness,  I  had  to  bless  you 
then  for  your  sweetness.  And  do  you  know 
that  that  one  unselfish,  unlooked-for  act  of 
yours,  was  the  die  that  turned  the  tide  and 
saved  me  from  defeat." 

"Not  unselfish,  darling,  for  I  held  you 
then,  in  my  secret  soul  as  mine  own  ;  my 
husband  then  as  now.  Your  success  then 
was  dear  to  me  as  it  is  now  or  can  ever  be." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  339 

"  This  is  very  sweet.  Can  I  ever  love  you 
enough  for  all  this  ? " 

"It  was  certainly  sweet  to  me,  for  all  the 
while  I  felt,  in  the  secret  and  most  holy 
depths  of  my  soul  absolutely  sure  of  you. 

"  '  'Twas  not  the  want  of  love's  assurance  ; 

It  was  not  doubting  what  thou  wert  ; 
But  'twas  the  too,  too  long  endurance 
Of  absence  that  distressed  my  heart.' 

And  somehow  it  would  come  to  me,  even  in 
my  moments  of  deepest  repining,  that  we 
would  some  day,  in  the  happy  future,  come 
together.  That  you  were  all  the  world  to 
me  ;  my  lord  and  my  master  ;  and  that  you 
would  some  blissful  day  come  to  claim  your 
own." 

"  Oh,  darling !  I  did  so  long  to  come,  but 
I  felt  so  unworthy,  so  wretched  and  mean 
that  I  was  ashamed  to  come.  But,  sweet 
one,  tell  me  on  ;  all  about  your  life  and 
home  at  Florence  !  " 

"  Ah,  and  did  not  your  little  bird  tell  you 
all?" 

"No,  not  all;  for  it  was  not  a  silver 
throat,  but  rather  of  evil  tongue  and  black- 
winged  as  Poe's  gloomy  raven,  and  it  was 
only  happy  when  tantalizing  me  with  stories 
of  other  men's  happiness." 

"  How  ? "  wonderingly. 


340  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Ah  !  Jake  Gorman,"  laughingly. 

"I  hope  that  did  not  distress  you  ?"  with 
a  pretty  blush.  "  I  was  really  sorry  for  the 
gentleman.  But  I  could  not  help  it,"  in  a 
little  dismay  at  something,  she  could  not  im- 
agine what. 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  not.  Neither  could 
poor  Jake.  Only  I  was  so  glad  of  it.  It  was 
such  a  weight  lifted  off  my  heart  when  I 
heard  that  poor  Jake  had  been  so  neatly  done 
for.  Ha,  ha — 

"  Are  you  really  laughing  at  me  ? "  draw- 
ing up  a  little  stiffly. 

' '  Oh,  no  ;  not  you,  darling.  I  was  only 
laughing  at  poor  Jake,  flabbergasted,  ha,  ha! 
yes,  that's  what  Miss  Pauline  called  it.  But, 
darling,"  sobering  up  a  little  as  Abigail  tried 
to  pull  a  little  farther  away,  "  what  became 
of  the  Count?-" 

"  The  Count  Frangapani  ?  " 

"  Oh,  oh  !  and  there  was  another  one  ?  " 

"  There  was  a  Count  Frangapani." 

"Ah,  was  there?  But  that  was  not  the 
one  my  bird  croaked  so  ominously  about.  It 
was  a  Count  Pacetti." 

' '  Oh, "  with  a  smile.  ' '  Yes,  Count  Pacetti ; 
and  I  must  tell  you  of  Count  Pacetti.  Such  a 
pleasant  gentleman !  A  true  nobleman  in 
nature  as  well  as  in  rank  ;  and  we  had  such 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  341 

a  pleasant  time  and  such  a  nice  little  wed- 
ding.'^ 

"  Wedding  ?  "  interrupting  with  a  positive 
snort,  "with  whom?" 

"  Yes,  wedding,  with  the  Count  Pacetti." 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  .me  that  you " 

"Gave  Miss  Whiting  and  the  Count  a 
wedding  ?  Of  course  I  did,  as  elegant  an 
affair  as  I  could  possibly  devise.  And  it  was 
in  truth  a  very  pleasant  occasion,  and  they 
are  a  very  happy  couple,  and  I  do  wish  them 
all  the  happiness  they  both  so  well  deserve." 

"  Oh,  darling,  you  must  forgive  me,  but  I 
am  positively  silly  ;  this  happiness  is  all  so 
new,  so  surprising,  so  unexpected,  and  I  feel 
myself  so  utterly  unworthy  of  it  all,  that  I 
cannot  fully  realize  its  sober  truth.  You 
are  so  sweet,  so  dear,  so  precious,  that  I  can- 
not quite  feel  certain  that  you  are  indeed  my 
own  ;  and  I  had  heard  that  it  was  you  the 
Count  was  wishing  to  marry." 

"  Then  your  bird  must  have  had  a  raven's 
throat  as  well  as  wing,"  with  a  happy  smile. 

"And  this  other?  The  Count  Franga- 
pani?" 

"  Is  a  venerable  old  gentleman,  who  was 
very  kind  to  me,  and  who  made  my  sojourn 
at  Florence  more  pleasant  than  it  otherwise 
would  have  been.  His  friendship  was  not 


342  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

only  a  pleasure  and  an  honor,  but  a  protec- 
tion as  well.  No  one  near  Florence  would 
think  of  offending  a  protegee  of  the  Count 
Frangapani." 

"  Then  I  must  bless  the  count  for  befriend- 
ing my  darling.  But  tell  me  how  came  you 
to  leave  Florence,  and  when  ?  You  must 
not  blame  my  presumption  too  much,  but 
everything  about  you,  about  your  life  and 
your  doings,  is  so  precious  to  me  that  I  must 
know  them  all." 

"You  are  good,  and  I  think  that  I  under- 
stand you,  and  I  wish  to  tell  you  all ;  I  do  not 
know  of  even  a  thought  that  I  would  care  to 
conceal.  We  left  Florence  in  March,  immedi- 
ately after  Miss  Whiting's  marriage,  we 
came  over  to  England  and  spent  the  spring 
in  journeying  through  the  three  kingdoms, 
traveling  at  leisure  from  place  to  place. 
On  the  tenth  instant  we  sailed  from  Liverpool 
to  New  York,  where  we  landed  on  the 
twentieth,  and  then  the  next  day  we  came 
on  here.  We  were  going  directly  through 
on  our  way  to  Richmond,  but  missed  con- 
nection yesterday  morning  and  had  to  stop 
over.  We  heard  that  you  were  to  speak, 
and  I  so  longed  to  see  and  hear  you,  that  I 
prevailed  on  Mr.  Whiting  to  secure  tickets 
for  the  gallery  and  we  went ;  and  oh, 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  343 

darling,  my  very  heart  seemed  melted  into  a 
fount  of  gratitude  and  love  as  I  saw  and 
listened  to  you.  And  then,  when  after  you 
had  finished,  and  you  chanced  to  look  up  and 
I  caught  your  eye,  I  would  have  given  my 
life  to  have  crawled  to  your  feet  and  beg  you 
to  take  me  home  to  your  heart.  Oh,  darling, 
did  you  know  me  ? " 

'k  I  recognized  you  then,  sweet  one,  as  the 
mistress  of  my  soul,  the  queen  of  my  life, 
but  I  did  not  know  that  it  was  you,  my  very, 
very  own.  And  then,"  he  went  on,  after 
kissing  her  hand,  "when  I  saw  you  again 
at  the  opera,  I  was  wretched,  for,  Abigail, 
do  you  know  that  then  a'  guilty  thought,  the 
first  that  ever  tainted  my  manhood,  entered, 
my  brain,  and  overwhelmed  my  reason." 

"  No,  no  ;  "  with  a  tender  protest. 

"  Yes,  when  I  saw  you  then,  so  lovely,  so 
radiant,  so  fair  to  look  upon,  my  truth,  my 
faith  to  my  absent  wife,  the  wife  whom  I 
had  learned  to  love  and  so  longed  to  see,  was 
shaken  and  destroyed,  and  I  felt  guiltily 
drawn  towards  you,  the  beautiful  stranger 
whom  I  had  never  seen  before.  Ah,  it  was 
a  horrible  thought,  and  I  felt  like  killing 
myself  for  my  unfaith  to  the  woman  whom 
I  had  already  so  cruelly  wronged.  Oh,  dar- 
ling, paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  my  love  to 


344  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

you  then,  which  should  have  been  my  sweet- 
est joy,  was  in  truth  the  keenest  sorrow  I 
ever  felt." 

"  Ah,  happy  paradox  !  But  I  understand 
it.  Your  heart  was  wiser  than  your  head, 
your  love  was  stronger  than  your  reason. 
Your  heart  knew  me,  sweetheart,  and  your 
love  came  out  to  claim  its  own.  Ah,  true 
love ! " 

"And  you  do  not  despise  me  for  my  trea- 
son, and  can  forgive  me  for  my  unf aith  to 
the  poor  absent  one  ?  " 

"But  it  was  no  treason  ;  your  unf  aith  to 
her,  the  absent  Grace,  was  the  highest  evi- 
dence of  your  truth"  to  me,  the  present  Abi- 
gail. But  oh,  darling,  had  it  not  been  me  ? 
Had  it  been  some  other,  more  deserving  even 
than  I,  what  would  I  have  done  ? " 

"You  would  have  had  to  despise  me, 
dearest,  as  I  despised  myself  ;  for  had  it  not 
been  you,  much  as  I  had  learned  to  love  you, 
the  poor  wandering  Abigail,  had  this  other 
beautiful  one  whom  I  hold  so  fondly  now, 
been  indeed  some  one  else,  I  should  have 
renounced  my  wife  and  followed  her  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth." 

"  Then  I  am  glad  that  it  was  3rour  wife, 
your  own,  own  Abigail,  and  that  I  am  she, 
and  not  a  stranger  to  steal  my  darling  away 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  345 

from  myself.  Ah,  happy  me  !  happy  Abigail, 
but  poor  Grace,  how  I  must  pity  her." 

"And  yet,  dearest,  there  was  no  Grace  ;  I 
never  thought  of  you  as  Grace  ;  it  was  Abi- 
gail, sweet,  sweet  Abigail,  all  the  while,  and 
it  was  so  stupid  in  me  not  to  have  known 
you  last  night." 

"  But  let  me  tell  you  of  last  night,  or  no — 
no,  it  is  nothing  now,  and  I  need  never  to 
tell." 

"  Tell  anything,  darling,  that  will  not  pain 
you  to  tell.  Henceforth  our  hearts  must  be 
one,  our  thoughts  as  one." 

"  It  was  only  a  gossip,  a  cruel  gossip,  con- 
necting you  with  Miss  Stanley. " 

"Yes,  I  can  understand  what  it  was,  but  it 
was  all  a  mistake.'  Miss  Stanley  and  her 
father,  Senator  Stanley,  both  too  well  under- 
stand my  position  for  my  attention  to  her  to 
be  misunderstood.  Every  one  sufficiently  in- 
terested in  my  friendship  knows  very  well 
that  I  am  a  married  man.  And  to-day,  after 
I  met  you,  I  told  them  that  you  were  my 
much  injured  wife.  Oh,  darling,  did  you 
not  pity  me  to-day  when  Milnes  introduced 
us?" 

"No,  not  pity.  I  should  have  had  to 
blame  you  to  pity,  but  I  was  very  sorry 
that  we  met  as  we  did  as  strangers  and 


346  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

before  strangers.  I  did  so  wish  to  be  away, 
and  I  hardly  knew  what  to  do,  to  stand  and 
brave  it  out  or  to  run  away  and  hide." 

"  You  did  admirably — that  is  for  my  re- 
lief ;  as  for  yourself,  though,  you  should  have 
openly  denounced  me  as  the  craven  poltroon 
I  felt  myself  to  be." 

"  No,  no.     David — may  I  call  you  David  ? " 

"Yes,  if  you  please.  Any  name  will  be 
sweet  from  you,  the  endearing  sweetness  of 
your  voice  would  make  the  name  Beelzebub 
cherubic." 

"  Ah,  it  is  sweet  in  you  to  think  it ;  but, 
David — ah,  that  is  bold,  but  then  I  have  mur- 
mured it  so  often,  and  blessed  it  so  often  that 
it  is  precious  to  me  ;  but,  David,  I  think  that 
I  understand  you,  and  have  understood  all 
the  while.  It  was  a  cruel  misapprehension 
that  has  stood  between  us  all  the  while.  I 
knew  you  were  not  the  wretch  your  morbid 
sensitiveness  made  you  think  yourself.'  I 
knew  that  you  were  all  that  I  know  you  to 
be  now,  generous,  truthful,  brave  and  good, 
and  oh,  darling,  I  do  love  you  so.  But," 
after  recovering  from  the  confusion  of  kisses 
that  followed,  "  But,  darling  !  I  must  tell 
you  all,  and  you  must  not  despise  me  utterly 
for  being  so  weak,  but  last  night  when  that 
heartless  gossip — oh,  that  a  woman's  tongue 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  347 

can  be  so  sharp  ! — told  it  so  cruelly  that  you 
had  secured  your  divorce,  from  your  faith- 
less wife " 

"  Oh  darling  ;  she  could  not  have  spoken 
such  a  lie  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  it  cut  me  to  the  soul ;  and  that 
you  were- soon  to  be  married  to  the  lady  who 
looked  so  happy  by  your  side,  I — I  had  to 
falter,  and  in  despair,  I  resolved  to  kill  my 
love,  my  sweet  love,  while  it  was  yet  inno- 
cent ;  to  kill  it  and  bury  it  away  before  it 
became  a  sin  for  me  to  love  you  longer,  and 
to  help  me  to  kill  it  forever,  without  the 
hope  of  resurrection,  I — I — I  oh,  darling, 
forgive  me — 

"  Say  no  more,  sweet  one  !  I  understand, 
it  was  brave,  it  was  good  in  you  to  do  so." 

"  But  you  do  not  know,  I  went  so  far  in 
my  desperation  as  to  write  to  another,  a  kind, 
true-hearted  gentleman,  who  was  acquainted 
with  my  unhappy  past  and  who  would,  I 
think,  have  been  willing  to  take  me,  heart- 
sore  as  I  was." 

"Darling,  you  need  not  tell,"  interrupting 
and  stopping  her  mouth  with  a  kiss. 

"  Marse,  will  yer  go  ter  de  tavern  or  muss 
I  drive  ter  de  landin'  ? "  asked  their  Jehu,  as 
he  drew  up  in  the  good  old  Virginia  town  of 
Alexandria. 


348  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"To  the  ferry,  of  course.  We  only  have 
five  minutes. " 

The  Taney  had  passed  and  already  spread 
the  news  of  the  disaster  with  exaggerated 
reports  of  the  casualties,  each  vehement 
reporter  fixing  the  loss  in  exact  ratio  to  his 
or  her  own  danger  ;  some  stating  it  as  high 
as  fifty  souls  lost,  and  others  all  the  way 
down  to  a  dozen,  but  all  agreeing  upon  one 
particular  loss,  the  saddest  of  them  all,  the 
young  and  brilliant  Congressman,  Winston, 
who  was  bodily  burned  alive  while  heroically 
trying  to  rescue  a  strange  lady  and  her  five 
little  children,  two  at  the  breast,  all  seven, 
Congressman,  mother,  and  the  five  little 
innocents,  cremated  in  each  other's  arras. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  happily  isj  there 
was  but  one  single  soul  lost,  a  truly  loyal 
pilgrim  from  Skowhegan,  who  had  imbibed 
too  much  patriotism  at  the  tomb  of  Wash- 
ington and  was  too  soundly  sleeping  off  its 
somniferous  effects  to  be  awakened  in  time 
to  scramble  to  the  boats,  and  he  went  up.  like 
Elijah  of  old,  in  a  blaze  of  fire,  without 
knowing,  perhaps,  how  he  got  there.  This, 
with  a  few  bruised  heads  and  a  half  dozen 
broken  shins,  caused  by  the  beastly  scramble 
for  the  boats,  was  all  the  loss  to  life  and 
limb. 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  349 

David  and  Abigail  listened  with  a  vague 
feeling  of  amazed  horror  at  the  story  of  their 
cremation,  but  did  not  venture  to  contradict 
it.  It  was  only  when  they  had  landed  and 
he  had  secured  a  cab,  that  he  realized  the 
importance  of  correcting  the  harrowing 
report : 

"Drive  to  the  telegraph  office  as  soon  as 
you  can, "  he  ordered,  and  in  fifteen  minutes 
they  were  at  the  door  of  the  office. 

"  Wait  here,  a  minute,"  to  cabby;  "please 
excuse  me  a  second,  darling,"  this  to  his 
wife,  "  I  wish  to  send  a  telegram  ; "  and  out 
he  jumped  and  in  the  office  he  rushed. 

"Have  you  sent  off  any  reports  concern- 
ing the  burning  of  the  Sunrise  ?  "  he  asked 
of  the  manager. 

"  Yes,  as  hard  as  we  can  clatter,  and  have 
a  thousand  words  on  file  yet  to  send.  Here 
is  a  blank,  write  it  out  if  you  want  to  send 
one  and  it  will  take  its  turn,"  shoving  a 
blank-pad  in  his  face. 

"  Let  me  ask  if  the  death  of  Winston  has 
been  dispatched  ?  " 

"Yes,  that's  the  best  part  of  the  news; 
that  is  I  mean  it's  the  cream  of  the  whole 
joke — that  is  to  say,  it's  the  most  important 
item  of  the  whole  affair.  Without  that  the 
thing  would  hardly  be  worth  reporting." 


350  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"Then,  sir,  I  am  sorry  to  spoil  your  sensa- 
tion, but  Winston  is  not  dead  at  all.  I  am 
Winston,  and,  as  you  can  see,  am  not  at  all 
worse  for  the  scare." 

By  Jimmy  !  is  that  so  ?  Are  you  quite 
certain  of  it  ?  " 

"Quite  certain.  I  swam  to  the  Virginia 
shore  and  was  picked  up  by  a  skiff.  My 
wife  too,  is  safe  ;  indeed,  sir,  I  think  that  all 
were  saved.  I  was,  I  think,  the  last  to  leave 
the  boat,  and  all  were  well  out  of  it  when  I 
plunged  in  the  river.  Please  have  your 
operators  to  make  the  necessary  correction, 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  will;  I  am  glad  you  told  me. 
Boys,  here,  each  of  you  add  a  correction  to 
each  message  that  you  send,  so  :  '  Later, 
Winston  and  lady  are  safe  ;  swam  ashore  in 
a  skiff.'  Will  that  do?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"  Very  well,  who  will  pay  for  this  ?  " 

"  Send  the  bill  to  the  National  Hotel  and  I 
will  pay  it." 

"All  right,  I  am  glad  that  you  are  safe," 
nodding  his  congratulations,  but  "adding 
sotto  voce:  "  But  it's  a  blamed  pity  to  spoil 
the  milk  in  the  cocoanut ;  his  death  was  worth 
all  the  balance  ;  however,  it  was  a  good 
streak  of  luck  for  us,  and  the  corrections 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  351 

will  be  so  much  more.  I'll  make  him  pay 
for  every  one  of  them." 

"  Now,  John,  drive  to  the  National  as  fast 
as  you  can,"  to  the  driver.  "They  were 
flashing  it  all  over  the  land  that  we  were 
lost,"  jumping  in  the  cab,  and  clasping  his 
wife's  hand,  doubtless  to  assure  himself  that 
she  was  really  safe.  "  I  was  just  in  time." 

"Poor  Nanny,  I  know  that  she  is  dis- 
tracted," and  David  thought  it  was  very 
sweet  in  her  to  have  thought  for  the  anxiety 
of  her  negro  maid,  at  such  a  moment,  even 
though  it  must  put  him  a  little  out  of  coun- 
tenance. 

In  a  minute  more  they  were  at  the 
National,  where  the  office  and  corridors 
were  thronged  with  an  excited  crowd,  listen- 
ing to  the  details  of  the  terrible  affair.  As 
gently  as  he  could  he  slipped  her  through 
the  ladies'  entrance  up  to  the  ladies'  drawing 
room,  where,  calling  a  chambermaid,  Abigail 
asked  : 

"Has  Mrs.  Whiting,  the  lady  in  thirty- 
six,  returned?" 

"Yes,  mum,  but  the  lady  in  thirty-eight 
ain't.  She  was  drowned,  or  burnt  up  alive, 
they  don't  know  which,  and  her  nigger 
woman  has  got  the  hysterics  wuss  nor  white 
fokes.  She  thest  seemed  at  fust  like  she'd 


352  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

go  inter  fits,  but  now  she's  as  sullen  as  a  'pos- 
sum." 

''Well,  you  go  to  Mrs.  Whiting  and  tell 
her  that  her  friend,  Mrs.  Winston,  was  not 
lost,  that  she  is  here  and  quite  safe  and 
well." 

"Well,  mum,  hut  she  ain't.  I  tells  you, 
mum,  that  she  was  lost,  her  and  Mr.  Win- 
ston, both  !  Ever'body  says  so,  'acaze  ever'- 
body  seed  them.  They  are  both  dead  ;  dead  as 
the  boy  that  eat  the  goobers  on  the  burn- 
ing deck  !  That  is  what  Mr.  Jolly  says.  I 
hearn  him  tell  it  myself  to  Mr.  Tenny,  and 
them  was  his  very  words." 

"Never  mind  what  Mr.  Jolly  said  ;  you 
go  to  Mrs.  Whiting  and  tell  her  to  come  to 
me.  I  am  Mrs.  Winston." 

"  Yes,  mum,"  courtesying  out  but  mutter- 
ing to  herself  as  she  went  :  "I  don't  be- 
lieve a  word  of  it.  I  know  Mr.  Jolly  knows 
better  than  she  does. " 

In  a  moment  more  Mrs.  Whiting,  with  hair 
down  and  eyes  red  with  weeping,  came  rush- 
ing in,  and  catching  her  friend  in  her  arms, 
let  the  cooing  sobs  and  kisses,  and  mur- 
mured blessings  tell  how  glad,  glad  was  the 
surprising  joy. 

"  And  now,  Alice,  I  want  to  present  my  hus- 
band. You  know  how  I  have  loved  him  !  but 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  353 

I  cannot  ever,  ever  love  him  enough.  It  was 
his  great  love  that  saved  me,"  said  the 
happy  Abigail,  releasing  herself  from  the 
fond  embrace  and  turning  to  her  husband. 

Mrs.  Whiting  looked  the  surprise  she 
could  not  hide,  and  then  offering  her  hand 
said  : 

"  That  he  is  dear  to  you  makes  him  my 
friend.  We  had  heard  that  you  were  both 
lost." 

"  No  !  I  never  came  near  it,"  a  little  coldly, 
for  somehow  in  his  heart  he  felt  a  little  bitter- 
ness against  the  Whitings  for  their  selfish 
and  ungenerous  abandonment  of  his  dar- 
ling. 

"  And  now  I  must  go  to  Nanny,"  said 
Abigail,  turning  and  hurrying  up  to  her 
room. 

The  doubting  chambermaid  had  some- 
what prepared  the  negro  for  the  reappear- 
ance of  the  mistress  she  was  mourning  for 
dead,  or  the  sudden  sight  of  her  would  have 
quite  upset  her  superstitious  mind  and  sent 
her  shrieking  out  of  the  window.  As  it  was 
she  had  to  stand  and  stare,  in  dumb  amaze- 
ment at  the  apparition,  until  Abigail  spoke  : 

"It  is  really  I,  Nanny  !  What  are  you 
wondering  at  ?  Don't  you  see  that  I  am 

safe  ? " 
23 


354  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

"  Yes,  bless  de  Lord  it  is  you.  Oh  !  my 
darling  Miss  Grace,  I  is  so  glad  ter  see 
yer.  But  whar  you  git  dem  clothes  ?  Has 
yon  bin  ter  hebben  shore  'nuff ,  and  is  dem 
de  dresses  de  angels  wear  ? "  in  new  wonder 
at  the  strange  attire  of  her  mistress. 

"No!  a  kind  lady  loaned  me  these,  and 
you  must  help  me  to  take  them  off  and  dress 
me  in  my  own.  But,  Nanny,  you  must 
not  call  me  Miss  Grace  any  longer.  I  am 
Abigail  now  !  David  has  come  and  I  am 
Abigail !  so  hurry  up  and  dress  me  before 
he,  your  Master  David,  comes,"  and  in  the 
grateful  task  of  dressing  her  fair  young  mis- 
tress Nanny  forgot  the  wonder,  and  only 
loved  her  the  more  because  of  the  great  grief 
of  the  hour  before. 

And  then  just  as  the  last  hook  in  her 
bodice  had  been  fastened,  a  timid,  half- 
shamed  knock,  as  if  it  were  afraid  bf  being 
heard,  came  from  without,  and  the  blood, 
incarnadining  her  face  and  neck  and  even  the 
pinky  ears  told  who  it  was. 

"It  is  your  Master  David  !  I  will  open 
the  door  myself  and  bid  him  come  !  And 
you — you  may  go,  Nanny  ! " 

It  was  David  (I  wonder  what  little  bird 
it  was  that  told  him  where  the  nest  of 
his  love  was  hidden  ?)  and  with  a  gentle 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  355 

kiss  she  greeted  him  ;  and  then  she  led  him  to 
the  table,  where  she  had  written  the  night 
before,  and  taking  up  the  letter  addressed  to 
Lord  Knightleigh,  she  extended  it  to  him  : 

"  Here,  David,  is  the  letter  I  wrote  last 
night  to  Lord  Knightleigh  !  I  am  going  to 
burn  it.  Would  you  care  to  read  it  ? " 

"  No,  darling  !  that  it  pained  you  to  write  it 
makes  it  hateful  to  me  !  I  am  sorry,  though, 
for  poor  Knightleigh,"  with  an  ineffable 
sense  of  his  own  possession. 

' '  As  I  am  sorry  for  poor  Miss  Stanley, "  she 
answered  with  a  smile  as  self-assuring. 
And  touching  the  letter  to  the  gas  jet  she 
threw  it  on  the  hearth  and  watched  it  melt 
into  ashes. 

"And  now,  darling,  I  came  to  take  you 
down  to  dinner,  but  first  we  will  have  to 
show  ourselves  in  the  parlor.  I  wish  to 
show  everybody  my  queen." 

Winston's  appearance  in  the  rotunda  had 
been  no  less  surprising  to  his  friends  than 
Abigail's  had  been  to  Mrs.  Whiting,  and  he 
had  to  mount  a  chair  and  make  a  little 
speech  in  order  to  convince  them  that  he 
was  indeed  alive  and  in  the  flesh.  But  the 
surprise  was  equally  great  and  far  more  dra- 
matic now  as  he  led  his  beautiful  and  blush- 
ing bride  in  the  parlor  and  introduced  her  as 


356  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

his  wife,  "the  grandest,  the  bravest  and 
sweetest  woman  in  all  the  world." 

The  next  Saturday  morning  they  crossed 
over  to  Alexandria  and  drove  down  the 
river  to  the  Vincent  mansion,  to  pay  the 
promised  visit  and  to  thank  them  again  for 
all  their  kindness. 

The  next  week  the  tiresome  Congress 
adjourned  and  they  went  home.  And  oh, 
what  a  joyous  home-going  it  was !  Augusta 
was  almost  hysterical  in  the  exuberance  of 
her  joy,  and  wept  and  smiled,  and  blessed, 
and  kissed  by  turns,  as  she  held  Abigail  to 
her  heart.  Judge  Winston  could  only  hold 
her  head  against  his  breast  and,  tenderly 
patting  the  flossy  crown,  silently  bless  her  ; 
while  the  babies  looked  on  in  infantile 
wonder  and  disgust. 

And  then  after  the  Judge  had  released 
her,  and  Walter  Graves  had  exacted  a 
brotherly  tribute  from  her  rosy  cheeks,  the 
babies  (bless  the  babies  ! )  themselves  had  to 
be  paraded. 

"  Here,  my  sister,  are  my  treasures,"  cried 
the  proud  mother,  holding  up  the  little 
Abigail  in  one  arm  and  pulling  the  little 
David  forward  with  the  other.  "This," 
presenting  baby,  "is  my  darlingest  one — 
little  Abigail ;  tis  your  aunty,  darling." 


DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL.  357 

"  Abigail  ?  For  me  ? "  with  a  halo  of  glad- 
ness lighting  her  face,  and  a  tear  trembling 
on  the  lashes. 

"Yes,  Grace  Abigail,  for  you." 

"  Oh,  I  must  bless  you,  sweet,  sweet, 
sweet  ! "  she  cried,  catching  the  little  darling 
in  her  arms,  and  deluging  it  with  kisses. 

"And  here  is  mother's  little  man  ;  my 
little  David." 

"Ah,  David!  I  must  bless  you  too,"  and 
kneeling  she  took  the  little  fellow  in  her  dis- 
engaged arm,  and  softly  kissed  him,  and 
then,  with  a  child  on  each  arm,  and  both 
clinging  lovingly  to  her  neck,  she  stood  up,  a 
living,  breathing  impersonation  of  woman- 
hood, perfect  in  loveliness,  perfect  in  truth 
and  perfect  in  gladness. 

There  was  only  the  shadow  of  one  sadness 
to  chasten  all  this  happiness  ;  the  absence  of 
that  dear,  kind  and  loving  old  face ;  the 
pleasant  smile,  the  homely  but  gentle  greet- 
ing which  she  could  never  see  or  hear 
again. 

"Oh,  if  he  could  only  see  this,  could  only 
know  my  happiness, "  she  murmured  to  her 
husband,  as  they  walked  to  her  room. 

"He  does  see  it,  darling,  I  can  feel  his 
presence  blessing  his  child,  and  blessing  me. 
And,  darling,  I«am  sure  that  in  his  prescient 


358  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

love,  he  saw  all  this  the  day  he  died.  Do 
you  know  that  I  was  with  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  were  you  ? "  gladly. 

"Yes,  I  lifted  him  to  his  bed,  and  I  held 
his  hand  as  his  soul  went  out  to  meet  his 
God.  His  last  words  were  blessings  upon 
you  and  upon  me.  Let  us  cherish  his 
memory,  darling,  as  a  precious  legacy,  but 
we  should  not  grieve  that  he  is  gone  before. 
I  only  wish  that  my  own  end,  after  a  life  so 
useful,  may  be  as  peaceful  as  his." 

"  Oh,  darling,  you  do  not  know  how  glad 
it  makes  me  to  know  this,  that  you  were 
with  him  when  he  died.  Ah,  had  I  only 
known  it  then,  what  an  age  of  doubt  and 
misery  and  despair  would  have  been  spared 
me  !  For,  David,  you  must  know  that  that 
was  the  darkest  hour  of  my  life.  The  hour 
I  read  your  father's  letter,  telling  me  how 
utterly  I  stood  alone  in  the  world,  and  not  a 
word  of  sympathy  from  you.  It  was  then 
for  the  first  time  that  I  was  ready  to  despair 
of  your  love,  of  your  pity,  for  I  felt  that  if 
you  were  ever  to  come,  that  you  would  come 
then,  when  I  so  sorely  needed  your  love  and 
your  sympathy." 

' '  My  poor  darling,  I  did  sympathize  with 
you,  and  my  heart  was  almost  breaking  to 
be  with  you,  but  I  felt  my  own  unworthiness 


DAVID  AXD  ABIGAIL.  359 

too  keenly,  my  dishonor  too  acutely.  To 
have  seen  you  would  have  been  to  shame  my 
own  manhood,  nay  !  worse,  it  would  have 
been  an  insult  to  you,  my  darling,  a  reproach 
to  your  womanly  dignity.  Ah,  dearest,  you 
may  never  know  what  a  misery  was  mine. 
To  its  cruel  banishment  from  its  love,  my 
heart  had  to  bear  the  additional  weight  of 
remorse,  and  that  was  the  saddest  load  of 
all." 

"Ah,  yes  !  but  it  is  over  now.  We  have 
both  suffered  ;  but  let  us  hope  that  our  suf- 
ferings was  the  darkness  out  of  which  must 
come  the  brightness  of  our  after- joys  ! " 

"Ah,  yes  !  The  gladness  of  holding  you 
thus,  my  darling,  was  cheaply  earned  by  all 
that  I  suffered  then." 

The  mansion  on  Colbert  Avenue  was  re- 
opened, and  all  Bergovania  was  startled  into 
curious  delight  by  cards,  the  next  week,  for 
a  reception  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  David  E.  Win- 
ston. 

It  was  a  brilliant  reception.  All  Ber- 
govania was  there  to  find  its  fairest  beauty, 
hopelessly  and  helplessly  eclipsed  by  the 
sweeter,  fairer  and  rarer  beauty  of  the  peer- 
less bride. 

David  would  have  been  very  proud  of  his 
queen  had  he  not  been  so  soberly  happy. 


36U  DAVID  AND  ABIGAIL. 

And  Abigail,  the  songs  that  so  rapturously 
thrilled  all  who  heard  her  sing,  with  a  sur- 
prising gladness,  were  but  a  sweet  con- 
cordance of  the  joy  that  was  filling  her  own, 
as  she  sang. 

"And  now,  darling,"  he  said,  as  he  led  her 
back  to  the  parlor,  after  seeing  the  last  of 
their  guests  to  the  door,  "  if  you  are  not  too 
tired,  one  more  song — a  song  for  me." 

"I  am  never  too  tired  to  sing  for  you," 
she  answered  sweetly,  and  taking  her  place 
at  the  piano,  she  sang  one  of  her  most 
tender,  touching  songs. 

"  Ah,  that  is  very  sweet !  You  must  have 
caught  it  in  a  dream  from  the  angels,"  he 
said,  stooping  and  raising  her  to  his  arms 
and  softly  kissing  her. 

And  with  that  music  thrilling  his  soul, 
and  that  loving  kiss  melting  her  heart,  I 
will  leave  them,  David  and  Abigail,  tried  by 
suffering  and  purified,  refined  and  exalted 
by  the  ordeal.  B.  F.  SAWYER. 

Bergovania,  1894. 

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